Your Voice

I have been deaf since I was eight.

Maybe, perhaps, if I had one of those normal, paranoid first time mothers it wouldn't have happened. But my mom had a sister with kids whom she'd taken care of several times, and she thought I was just being a fussy boy. I complained of headaches and the light bothering me, and she thought I'd inherited my father's migraines. I threw up, she rubbed my back and made me lie down. I had a fever, she laid a cool rag on my forehead and gave me some medicine.

Then I started asking a lot of weird questions, and made no sense. She only became worried when I started crying and complaining of my neck and ears hurting.

By the time I got to A&E my body was trembling and the fever was at a high point.

I had meningitis. Meningitis! One of the worst medical conditions a child can be in, and I had it. I remember next to nothing of my time in the hospital. Which makes sense, the doctors say I wouldn't remember anything with the condition I was in. They say I spent a lot of time asleep with their medicine running through me, attempting to cure me. It did, in the end.

Sure, it stunted my growth some. With all the swelling in my brain and the conditions I was put under, some sort of damage was expected. Thank God I didn't turn out epileptic. Although I did turn out deaf.

I can remember my life when I was a hearing person; the details are limited and it's become fuzzy over the years, but I still remember sounds. I can remember hating a nest of birds that lived in the tree outside my room. They annoyed me to no end, waking me up at the crack of dawn every morning. I use to beg my parents to cut off their branch or something, but now, I don't mind waking up and peaking out my window to see the birds that live there now. What I wouldn't give to hear them. What I wouldn't give to have a real conversation with my asshole dad, or to at least have some form of communication with him.

I learned basic BSL and picked up lots of things along the years. Now, I'm so fluent some of my teachers are impressed with how well I can express myself with my hands. I went to a specialty school for awhile, but I hated it so much that I begged my parents to let me go back to regular. Granted, they had to get me an assistant teacher, an interpreter of sorts, and I had no friends, but I could care less.

I just want to be a normal kid, you know? I know I never will be, considering I'll probably never get the cochlear implant, thus I'll never hear again. I know I'll never be able to communicate with kids my own age; not properly. So I was destined to be a loner for the rest of my life.

But that didn't mean I didn't want to go to normal school, or complete my A-levels and eventually move on to university. I want to do all that stuff and prove to everyone just because I am deaf doesn't mean I am stupid. I'm not, no matter how much my brained swelled or how often the doctors told my parents there was a possibility of me not having full brain function. It's shit and I am smart. I never told my parents this, but I have problems with numbers and mixing them up, but that is the only thing wrong with me. I guess that and the fact I can't hear.

My parents could care less about me. I think my father resents the fact he had to pay all the money for my medical bills. His insurance payment went up for the monthly fee, plus he had to chip in a lot of money for the expenses the insurance wouldn't pay for. I was in the hospital for months, so I'm sure it got pricey. Plus all the costs of rehabilitation, and BSL lessons, and the time they attempted to fit me for hearing aides, which failed miserably. So I guess, as my dad was fishing out money for my health, he got tired of trying to support me emotionally too.

He didn't even bother to learn BSL! I literally think he knows one word in sign language, and it's probably failure. All my mom learned was the alphabet, and sure that's better than nothing, but the only time she actually uses her skills is when she's spelling out a word once a week. Other than that, we have no communication. They don't speak to me and I sure as hell don't speak to them. The last time we really had a conversation was when I was asking if I could go to normal school for my A-levels, which they finally agreed to. The school paid for my interpreter and everything, so it's not like there was any more money coming from my dad's pockets. At least his insurance covered my monthly visits to the doctor, which were useless in my opinion considering the only option for me to hear again was the cochlear implant, and while NHS would pay for the actual operation, my dad would have to pay for all the after math, and that's not something he was willing to do.

As for my A-level classes, I chose to do English Literature, English Language, Art, and Photography. I think, as of right now, when I do go to university, I want to do an English Literature degree, or something along those lines. I am a nerd for English Literature. I didn't use to be, but I think since becoming deaf, I looked for comfort in different places, and literature was it for me. I don't have to know how to hear to read. It doesn't require me to listen to anything, or read lips. All I have to do is read the words on the page, and I'm transplanted in a different world. And one thing I don't tell people when they ask why I love reading, is that when it describes sounds, I feel like somehow I can hear again.

As far as the other subjects go, I know some universities require English Language as well, and I don't have to hear the language to know how to write it. Photography is something I like to due in my spare time, and I'm not exactly an expert at it, but I enjoy going out and taking pictures of different scenery. Then with art I think it's another deal where I don't have to hear to paint a picture. No one cares if I'm deaf, as long as I can paint something beautiful. And although I'm not about to pursue a career as an artist, I must admit I'm pretty good at it.

I'm nervous to start at normal school, if we're being honest. Not because I think the classes will be hard, or because I'm afraid I won't understand the work, but because I know the majority of students there will be hearing. I don't expect to have friends; it's a given for me, considering even at my specialty school a lot of people had the implant or at least a small percent of their hearing, yet I was legally completely deaf in both ears. Going to a school where no one knows sign language and everyone loves to talk and gossip, I plan on being the kid who eats in the library.

It's depressing, yeah. Don't get me wrong, I fucking hate my life. But it's my life and I have to live it, so what's the use in complaining or getting down on myself because of it. So what my routine will consist of me going through my classes without a single person to speak to aside from the assistant teacher and then going home to a loveless family where I will hide away in my room reading or blogging.

I sound so pathetic, don't I? But I guess that makes sense considering I am, to a degree, petty. The loner, deaf boy that has a family who doesn't care about him. I'll probably never have a girlfriend, or I don't know, a boyfriend, and I will die alone.

No, that's not true. The only reason I'm doing my A-Levels and planning on uni is because I'm going to get myself out of Watford and move on. I can't stay in my parents' place much longer, not with all the neglect and ignorance, and the only way to do that is to get an education and get a job. I don't need to hear to do those things. And I certainly don't need friends or a significant other.

Being deaf prepared me more for the real world, where people are cruel and nothing comes easy. And in a way, I feel like I understand a part of life that hearing people can't. I just wish I had someone to express that to other people. In my writing I don't like talking about the fact I'm deaf, and I don't have someone to speak to about it in person.

What I wouldn't give to have one person who cared enough to communicate with me. But I don't need someone, I guess. Not really...