The other night, I locked the front door before going to bed.
Now, we never lock our doors at night, during the day either, because if someone is intent on breaking into the house, they will figure out how to get in. But the Hearing Husband was away for a couple of days, and I am deaf at night.
If an intruder broke through the front door, I wouldn’t hear them. I don’t have a dog – or a pet whale or an elephant which have even better hearing – to alert me to the noise. Locking the door was merely a ceremonial gesture towards my mental health and a good night’s sleep.
Most people with hearing loss have at least one locked-door story; I have several.
I locked my husband out of our condo for 45 minutes when he took the trash down. Out of habit, I locked the door behind him and continued watching TV, loudly enough that I didn’t hear him knocking or phoning up from the lobby (these were pre-cellphone days). He’s never found the story as funny as I do. But then my friend Myrtle locked me out of our hotel room. The hotel staff had to break in, and she slept right through it – this story he finds hilarious.
Traveling solo with hearing loss requires planning and self-advocacy. How will I wake up in time for an early flight? A vibrating and/or flashing alarm is standard, although most of us don’t trust the device or ourselves and keep waking up to see if we’ve slept in. Top tip: don’t book an early flight.
To bolt or not to bolt the hotel door is the big question for nervous travelers with hearing loss. Hotel doors lock automatically but we have the option of using the extra hotel latch. This might deter the bad guys, but it’s time-wasting work for emergency responders trying to save us because we didn’t respond to a fire alarm.
I put my faith in humanity. Instead of using the door latch, I disclose my hearing loss to front desk staff when checking in and go a step further: “If there’s a fire, send the brawniest, handsomest fire guy up to my room to save me first – thank you.” One hotel failed the test by abandoning me during a false alarm evacuation; I now make sure they make a computer note.
Two friends had better service from hotel staff. Leon woke up with a yank on his big toe. He yelled and so did the group of strangers standing around his bed, wondering if he was dead. The previous evening, Leon asked for a wakeup call. (He has profound hearing loss – what was he thinking?) When he didn’t respond to the call, or answer the door when security came to his room, they broke in.
After removing her cochlear implant sound processors, Roxana washed her face and went to bed. She awoke to a similar posse of strangers. She screamed in Spanish and they yelled back in English (she’s deaf in both languages) to stay where she was – her hotel room was flooded! She hadn’t heard that the water was still running, a common hearing loss experience.
Locked doors are also a problem when you’re trying to get out. When I travel with the Hearing Husband, whose hearing is exquisitely sharp, I can relax. But yesterday, without him, I found myself locked inside a single-stall washroom. I hesitated to call for help because I wouldn’t understand anyone on the other side. Just as I was about to call anyway, I spotted a big blue button near the sink: Press Here to Open.
