And How Does That Make You Feel? Part 1.

I had no idea University College London was so big, let alone that the hospital isn’t part of the Uni. Nor did I realise that the socks I’d put on were a nylon/cotton mix – which I hate anyway, but they looked nice in my drawer.

I haven’t been ignoring the blog, other things have been taking up my time. Such as, for the past four weeks I’ve been trawling back through the years since Sue began losing her hearing due to Meniere’s Disease. I was preparing notes for a chat I’d been asked to have with a group at UCL on how a partner’s hearing loss effects the hearing partner. No problem there, I know all about that stuff.

The more I thought about what to say, the more unhappy I became at what had happened over the years. Yes, if you like to put it that way, I have lost the Sue I used to have, but that hasn’t changed us – how we are together – in the slightest. What has been lost, for me, are the things that Sue can’t, or doesn’t, do any longer. And I’ve always thought that was what matters, not how I feel.

To put together my feelings, as I’d been asked, I obviously spent a great deal of time reflecting, which isn’t always helpful or constructive, so if you do that I’d suggest to put it in perspective where you can.

Armed with notes, water and Kit Kats I arrived in London and took the tube to my destination, the UCL Hospital. Nope, I wanted the buildings around the corner, The Uni. Nope again, I needed another building some streets away. So I walked, fast, rather than risk getting lost on a bus and by the time I arrived my Chelsea boots (apt for London, I thought) had turned into cauldrons through the friction of my socks. Feet ached, but not as much as later on after I’d walked even further due to taking a wrong turning somewhere else.

The chat was really informative – for me! I sat in on a presentation about hearing partners (HPs), which shook me. Quite a few HPs around the world don’t even attend appointments with their hearing impaired partner (HIP). How, why? I want to learn everything I can and support Sue as much as possible. Apparently some HPs feel embarrassed and frustrated with, or by, their HIPs. In my opinion, that’s wrong on so many counts. I’ve had to hold Sue up in public, help her walk, ‘assist’ her when she been violently sick and clean her up afterwards. No embarrassment for me. Concern and worry yes, but everyone else can take a jump as far as I’m concerned.

I always speak with Sue in a mixture of lipspeaking, finger spelling and some signing. People look, so what. One charming assistant at a cafeteria noticed me speaking with Sue and took over, smilingly, by signing what was on offer that day. What a great person, not only helped but made Sue happy.

Good point to break. Part 2 to follow.