Tuesday, May 29, 2007
Hear ye, hear ye
I went for a hearing check the other day. Considering the amount of abuse that I’ve put my ears through, I thought it would be best to check if they are still in good working order, especially if I’m going to be relying on them for a living in time to come.
After what seemed like several rounds of taking numbers and waiting in turn, I was finally seated in front of the Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) consultant, flanked by impressive colour posters with more details about the ears than most people need to know. Perhaps not surprisingly, he seemed rather interested when I mentioned my intended area of study and the rational for this hearing test. We briefly discussed the latest developments in the physics of sound before he moved on to examine my ear canal.
Probing into each ear with some sort of magnification device, he declared them free of wax and in good physical shape, still possessing plenty of healthy skin which tends to be degraded in those who are over-enthusiatic or ham-fisted with cotton buds. Following which, he stamped some papers and sent me on my way to the testing room.
Another turn of queueing up later, I was seated on a chair in what I suppose was the control room. In front of the computer hooked up to all sorts of paraphernalia was a window into the adjoining room with heavy padding and a bank vault-like door. The layout was reminiscent of a recording studio, but the vibe was like that of a mental institution.
I guess in a sense, there ARE similiarities between the two.
The tester was a pleasant-looking lady who was probably about my age, which helped somewhat because she proceeded to probe my ears about a dozen times each with an ear pressure testing device, trying out various rubber probe ends to get a result. For someone who doesn’t even use cotton buds in the ear, being probed so many times at one go was definitely not the most comfortable of experiences, especially since the device emitted a droning hum to make its presence heard on top of being felt.
When that was done with, I was glad to finally step into the little padded room. It was pretty much empty except for a normal plastic chair in the middle and a little pink one at the side (for kids taking the test I suppose), as well as some headphones and other miscellanous wires. Mounted on the wall was a pair of speakers and a microphone, but otherwise there was little else to break the visual monotony of the squares of padding. I sat on the chair looking into the control room through the window, though I was half expecting it to be a mirror. Just as well, I wasn’t wearing a leather mask or a white dress.
The instructions were simple enough. Sit down. Put on the headphones and hold on to some button device. Press button when you hear a sound from the headphones. Ok, I can handle that.
The vault door closed with a muffled thud and the steering-wheel-like handle spun half a round. The eerie silence was punctuated only by the sound of my breathing.
Her voice crackled through the headphones “Can you hear me?”
“Yeap.”
“Ready to begin?”
“Let’s go.”
A series of beeps of varying pitch and volume were played, some of which were so faint I strained to hear them even while holding my breath. I mustered all my concentration and attempted to divert all my sensory powers to my ears in superhero-like fashion. I’m not sure if it actually did happen.
The intelligibility test was next. This one was a lot simpler, basically consisting of the tester reading out a list of words and me repeating them. That didn’t require imaginary super-powers.
“Ok that’s it.”
The vault was opened and I got up to leave, but not without a cursory examination of the microphone to check out the brand.
“That’s a microphone.”
It was hard to resist the overwhelming temptation of giving a witty comeback to that line, but I did. What I couldn’t resist though, was the inclination to poke the padding with a finger to see if it was soft. I felt somewhat fulfilled after that.
I was sent back to the consultant (and yet another wait) where he went through the results with me. For all you naysayers out there who claim that I’m going deaf just because you have to repeat yourself to me on occasion, you are badly mistaken and I have indisputable proof.
I don’t have a scanner to post the graph (labelled as an Audiogram) up here, but suffice to say that it averages as a straight line across 250 to 8000 Hz at 10dB. PB Max test at 40 dB stimulus (I presume it’s the intelligibility test) weighs in at a whopping 100% in both ears.
Which leaves only one other explanation.
The rest of you have to go work on your pronunciation.
After what seemed like several rounds of taking numbers and waiting in turn, I was finally seated in front of the Ear, Nose and Throat (ENT) consultant, flanked by impressive colour posters with more details about the ears than most people need to know. Perhaps not surprisingly, he seemed rather interested when I mentioned my intended area of study and the rational for this hearing test. We briefly discussed the latest developments in the physics of sound before he moved on to examine my ear canal.
Probing into each ear with some sort of magnification device, he declared them free of wax and in good physical shape, still possessing plenty of healthy skin which tends to be degraded in those who are over-enthusiatic or ham-fisted with cotton buds. Following which, he stamped some papers and sent me on my way to the testing room.
Another turn of queueing up later, I was seated on a chair in what I suppose was the control room. In front of the computer hooked up to all sorts of paraphernalia was a window into the adjoining room with heavy padding and a bank vault-like door. The layout was reminiscent of a recording studio, but the vibe was like that of a mental institution.
I guess in a sense, there ARE similiarities between the two.
The tester was a pleasant-looking lady who was probably about my age, which helped somewhat because she proceeded to probe my ears about a dozen times each with an ear pressure testing device, trying out various rubber probe ends to get a result. For someone who doesn’t even use cotton buds in the ear, being probed so many times at one go was definitely not the most comfortable of experiences, especially since the device emitted a droning hum to make its presence heard on top of being felt.
When that was done with, I was glad to finally step into the little padded room. It was pretty much empty except for a normal plastic chair in the middle and a little pink one at the side (for kids taking the test I suppose), as well as some headphones and other miscellanous wires. Mounted on the wall was a pair of speakers and a microphone, but otherwise there was little else to break the visual monotony of the squares of padding. I sat on the chair looking into the control room through the window, though I was half expecting it to be a mirror. Just as well, I wasn’t wearing a leather mask or a white dress.
The instructions were simple enough. Sit down. Put on the headphones and hold on to some button device. Press button when you hear a sound from the headphones. Ok, I can handle that.
The vault door closed with a muffled thud and the steering-wheel-like handle spun half a round. The eerie silence was punctuated only by the sound of my breathing.
Her voice crackled through the headphones “Can you hear me?”
“Yeap.”
“Ready to begin?”
“Let’s go.”
A series of beeps of varying pitch and volume were played, some of which were so faint I strained to hear them even while holding my breath. I mustered all my concentration and attempted to divert all my sensory powers to my ears in superhero-like fashion. I’m not sure if it actually did happen.
The intelligibility test was next. This one was a lot simpler, basically consisting of the tester reading out a list of words and me repeating them. That didn’t require imaginary super-powers.
“Ok that’s it.”
The vault was opened and I got up to leave, but not without a cursory examination of the microphone to check out the brand.
“That’s a microphone.”
It was hard to resist the overwhelming temptation of giving a witty comeback to that line, but I did. What I couldn’t resist though, was the inclination to poke the padding with a finger to see if it was soft. I felt somewhat fulfilled after that.
I was sent back to the consultant (and yet another wait) where he went through the results with me. For all you naysayers out there who claim that I’m going deaf just because you have to repeat yourself to me on occasion, you are badly mistaken and I have indisputable proof.
I don’t have a scanner to post the graph (labelled as an Audiogram) up here, but suffice to say that it averages as a straight line across 250 to 8000 Hz at 10dB. PB Max test at 40 dB stimulus (I presume it’s the intelligibility test) weighs in at a whopping 100% in both ears.
Which leaves only one other explanation.
The rest of you have to go work on your pronunciation.
