Listen Up!

Jessica Dunkley uses a visual stethoscope to "hear" heart and lung sounds  (James Makokis)

I was diagnosed with a congenital sensorineural hearing loss at the age of two and a half. I have severe-to-profound hearing loss in my left ear and profound hearing loss in my right ear.

American Sign Language was my first language. I use it at home (my parents are deaf) and with my deaf friends who use sign language, and I speak with my relatives, at school and with other deaf friends. I was fortunate to have sign language I could use freely at home and with friends to maintain my social development as a child and teen, and to acquire speech so I could benefit from both worlds.

I was fitted with hearing aids at the time of diagnosis and immediately started private speech therapy, funded by the Purple Elks of Vancouver. They also enabled me to go to the Vancouver Oral Centre for Deaf Children, a clinical and educational centre, where I remained until I finished pre-school and started attending the David Oppenheimer School, which had a special classroom for oral-deaf students. I remained there until I finished Grade 2, and then I was transferred to a regular classroom and repeated that grade.

The transition into a regular classroom was difficult and challenging. I was bullied by my peers, taunted about my hearing loss, and often left out because I was not able to socialize like others. But I was able to seek solace from my deaf friends, whom I saw at the after-school Boys and Girls Club.

In the classroom, I used the FM system, which allowed me to understand the teachers better as they wore a microphone that transmitted to my hearing aid. I continued in private school until Grade 9, when I decided it was time to go to Burnaby South Secondary School, which had sign-language interpreters. There, I could interact with my deaf peers during lunch hours and breaks. To compensate for my isolation from my peers during social and classtime, I engaged in school sports, which I excelled at.

However, as I entered higher grades, I found it more difficult to follow what was happening in the classroom. So from Grades 10 to 12, I used sign-language interpreters. This was a significant improvement – I was exhausted from lip-reading and relying on my FM system and hearing aids all day. It takes a lot of concentration to understand people by lip-reading, and it becomes even more daunting when more than one person is speaking. With sign language, it was natural and easy.

Throughout my six years at the University of British Columbia, where I studied physiotherapy, and now as a medical student at the University of Ottawa, I continue to use interpreters. In medical school, this is challenging because, in general, interpreters don’t have a medical background, and they may have difficulty translating what’s covered in class. I’ve adapted by pre-reading and relying on classmates’ notes, as well as drawing on my knowledge of physiotherapy.

In the past, I have experimented with real-time captioning in the classroom. (A captionist enters information on a stenograph hooked up to a laptop. The words are displayed onscreen after a brief lag.) But there aren’t any captioners available in the Ottawa area, so I had to try remote real-time captioning. I was in the classroom with a conference microphone, connected to the captioner’s computer through the Internet. The captionist dialled into the room and listened through speakers. Unfortunately, this was very cumbersome because I was responsible for setting up the microphone for each class. There were times where I had back-to-back classes and didn’t have time to disassemble the equipment and rush to the next class and set up. The computer also disconnected frequently. Eventually, I had to stop using remote captioning.

Because I was its first deaf student, the school had problems providing accessibility throughout my first year. I missed several lectures, seminars, workshops, etc., because interpreters were not available or there were miscommunications between the school and the interpreters about the schedule. To compensate, I spent all my spare time studying. I also have supportive classmates who ensure I have class notes.

I believe challenges in life should not be perceived as barriers, but as opportunities to grow strong and prove that anything is possible. Wherever there have been barriers, I have always stood up to prove my ability. There are individuals who feel that I’m incapable of doing some things. As a result, I have to put in extra effort to prove my capabilities.

For example, when I was working as a physiotherapy student at a hospital, my supervisor felt that I shouldn’t be working in the intensive care unit (ICU) because of my hearing loss. I tried to explain how I compensate by being acutely aware of my visual environment. Unfortunately, he didn’t change his attitude, and I was constantly scrutinized while working with patients. I did learn many clinical pearls of wisdom from him, so there was something positive about the experience. At my next placement, another supervisor was very impressed by how I took charge of situations with patients in the ICU.

I don’t worry about barriers in my future practice. I think it’s a matter of adapting to the environment and working with my colleagues in the best way possible to ensure that we’re providing quality health care. There have been instances where physicians have been anxious to learn more about how to solve challenges that may arise during my clerkship (third and fourth year of medical school) as a result of my hearing loss, but I adapt in such circumstances rather than seeing them as problems.

I’m not offended when people ask questions about how a situation should be handled if I can’t hear a particular sound. I believe that we need to educate our peers about ourselves. Most of them will be unsure about how to interact with or approach us because they may not have had the experience of being with people with disabilities.

I don’t have any concerns about my ability to work as a physician. The advantage of medicine is that there is a vast array of specialties, and I can choose areas that I enjoy doing and where my hearing loss will not have a big impact. Surgery, for example, wouldn’t be suitable because I’d find myself at a loss in the operating room. With everyone wearing masks, I wouldn’t be able to rely on lip-reading and signals in facial and body language.

I will graduate from medical school in 2010. There are a few specialties I’m interested in. I have a keen interest in physiatry, which is a specialty in rehabilitation medicine. I have tremendous respect for the multidisciplinary team that works to provide the best care possible to patients returning to society from a rehabilitation hospital. I am also interested in family medicine. The one-on-one setting is the best environment for me to work in.

So far, I haven’t encountered any resistance from patients or clients. In fact, I consider my hearing loss a plus because it has made me more compassionate toward others who may be struggling. I also find that clients have more respect toward me because of the adversity I’ve had to overcome to become the person I am. My life experiences have made me into a resilient person, and I have grown strong and proven that anything is possible.

Jessica Dunkley is originally from Vancouver, and is currently in her third year at the University of Ottawa Faculty of Medicine. She is actively involved in the Aboriginal Student Committee, representing the medi- cal program at various Indigenous events.

Jessica Dunkley uses a electronic stethoscope designed for professionals with hearing loss. The beadwork on the device was created by a woman from Saddle Lake Cree Nation