The Road to Single-Sided Deafness (SSD) and Back Again—Dan's Story
Christmas 1971… a time that school aged children look forward to for weeks. Classroom gift exchanges (I got an “Instant Insanity” puzzle game), cleaning your desktop with cleanser and a sponge, candy, and the final washing of the blackboard are all memories of my 8th grade year. You could hardly repress the giddy anticipation of a few weeks off and playing with new toys. I started feeling bad on the school bus trip home. Dizziness and a headache replaced my joy and anticipation. Oh well, I ate too much candy or the smell of the cleanser was getting to me.
The headache didn’t subside and the dizziness continued. Now there was a low-grade fever. The room tilted and warped every time I tried to focus on the silver tinsel Christmas tree. I spent most of the time on one of the sofas in the living room. Mom called the doctor and we got an appointment for after Christmas. Christmas midnight Mass was spent lying in the pew as I could not sit up. Christmas morning was horizontal on the sofa. The euphoria of the atmosphere of presents, the tree, and traditional smell of Christmas lifted my spirits but I could not lift my head. I got a red, white, and blue basketball and my brother got the rim and backboard. Our dad bolted it to the garage that afternoon. I couldn’t stand to play, but then again there was snow on the ground anyway and who played basketball in the snow?
Our family doctor examined me and made an immediate referral to an ear, nose, and throat (ENT) specialist. The ENT did what he could, but by this time, I was profoundly deaf in my right ear. He said it was an inner ear infection, a viral something-or-other and that there was nothing I could do. He assured my parents that there was no physical damage to the outer or middle ear, but the nerve damage to the inner ear was permanent. There were no answers as to why, just the reality of being deaf.
Eventually, the headache went away but I still couldn’t walk. My parents “walked” me up and down the hall for weeks until I regained some balance. It was all they could do. I did get an extended vacation from school, but the red, white, and blue basketball remained in the box. During the next several months I re-learned how to walk, run, and play like all the other kids. I just couldn’t hear right, but I did play with the basketball. I began to position myself so I could turn my good ear to the action. This continued throughout high school. Very few if any people knew I was what is now known as single-sided deaf (SSD).
In 1975 after a career day visit at high school, I applied to the US Military Academy at West Point. Academically near the top of the class and in prime physical shape (excluding the SSD), I was offered an appointment to the Academy as First Alternate. Then came the complete body physical. As was to be expected, I failed the hearing test. I took it again, and failed it again. The doctors said I was profoundly deaf in my right ear and the Army didn’t want deaf soldiers so they pulled my appointment to West Point. The next 12 years included graduation from high school and college, marriage, and my first real job. I was able to hide my SSD situation pretty well throughout.
In 1987, I learned about CROS type hearing aides offered by The Ohio State University Hearing Clinic. To me, the two wireless analog over-the-ear devices were a technological marvel. One side was a microphone and the other was a speaker. It gave me my first “hearing” opportunity in 18 years. The sound wasn’t great and the clarity was poor, but anything was better than zero. It opened a completely new environment for me. I could detect sounds, and under optimal conditions, I could make out speech. Mostly, these early models gave me the realization that something was going on to my right so I could turn that direction and position my left ear. An upgrade ten years later improved the clarity and once again, I became more aware of the right side of my world. Speech was still only fair, but sounds and the volume were better. One constant during this whole time was the reality that I needed to position myself to the right so I could use my left ear. Large crowds and social events were a challenge, as I still couldn’t hear over the music or background din.
In October 2004, my wife, an RNC at The Ohio State University Medical Center, received an e-mail announcing the Baha hearing solution. The Baha is a bone conduction device where the sound is transmitted directly through the jaw and skull bone bypassing the outer and middle ear. It isn't a hearing aid. Well, I was intrigued as to the claims, researched nearly everything possible on the Internet, and talked with a Baha user. I made an initial appointment at OSU for an evaluation to see if I was a candidate. I was found to be a prime candidate since I was healthy, SSD, and my other ear’s hearing level was well above minimum requirements. Then procrastination, fear, and reality set in. Questions like “why would I want to have a metal “post or abutment” put into my head?” surfaced. Would it work even though I had nerve deafness? What would this thing look like? Dr. Dodson at OSU offered me the “test drive” device for the Baha. I was apprehensive and excited at the same time. I tried it and immediately notice a dramatic improvement in clarity and volume of the previously unknown world to my right. Could this thing work?
Being an engineer, I wanted to test it against an alternative. I contacted University Hearing Professionals and they allowed me to test drive new state-of-the-art digital wireless over-the-ear CROS type hearing aids. Now I could make the comparison that could improve my future. The improvement in the CROS device was dramatic as well. The only down side was that I was still wearing two hearing aides over my ears, something that got “old” over the past 18 years. The final test that solidified my decision to go with the Baha was performed at home. With a woodworker’s earplug in my good ear and the Baha device on my head, I faced away from my wife and turned on some background music. I was not only able to hear the music clearly and make out the lyrics; I was able to have a conversation with my wife at the same time. This was beyond all expectations. I soon arranged to have the implant surgery.
My abutment surgery was March 3 and I received the Baha device at the end of May 2005. As promised, wearing the Baha is uneventful. You literally cannot tell it is in place. The hearing quality associated with the Baha was even better than anticipated with the test unit and certainly as advertised. I was hearing and understanding speech from people on my right side, something that was impossible since 1971.
I often wonder if my hearing experience, hearing – becoming SSD – using CROS – wearing the Baha, is unique or if there are more like me out there. I hope those in a similar situation will consider seeking a professional evaluation from an audiologist and have an open mind regarding solutions for SSD. My personal evaluation of the options resulted in the Baha decision. I cannot say it has changed my life, but I can say I am now able to function normally in work, home, and social situations. Maybe it has changed my life…