Conflict At The Castle

Contrary to popular opinion, we persons with disabilities aren’t this monolith of beliefs, opinions, habits, and culture centered on our disability experiences and lifestyle. True, there is common ground, but there is division between and among us based on philosophical, cultural, and economic issues. The Duke and I are perfect examples of a great divide.

Persons with hearing loss and persons of short stature are incompatible. It’s a matter of the law of physics. The farther sound has to travel, the less volume it has. At six feet two inches, Duke William is deaf in his left ear, with greatly diminished hearing in his right ear and worsening because of aging. I am perhaps four feet nine inches and now shrinking due to the aging process. When I am on my motorized scooter the distance between my mouth and his ears are even greater.

This height differential greatly impairs our ability to communicate, except when we are seated and facing each other in a completely quiet room. These are the optimal conditions, which rarely occur in our daily schedule. The result is that the Duke and Duchess of DelBasid are communication-challenged.

Usually the Duke is hurrying along one of the castle corridors tending to some state matter, while I am going full speed on my scooter taking care of my responsibilities. We meet while moving, as usual I’m on his deaf side, I speak, he doesn’t hear me, and then I try to use the proper protocols to get his attention. I try a friendly wave, or some sort of other visual signal. If that doesn’t work then I gently touch his arm, give a loving caress of his hand or nudge his thigh. I call his name loudly but this time it doesn’t work. The Duke doesn’t hear me as he is distracted or deliberately ignoring me. So I have to take stronger measures. Sometimes I get the feeling the Duke deliberately annoys me, when he says “I really enjoy peace and quiet as I stroll the hallways” Depending upon the situation and my mood, either a hand smack on the ducal tush, a whack on his leg with my metal cane works or when all else fails, running over his foot with my scooter is the next step in communication. This really isn’t proper royal etiquette, but after 40 years of marriage, you do what you have to do to get results.

It won’t be effective to shout as the higher pitch of a female voice is outside of his decibel range. Why doesn’t he use digital technology and get one of those fancy hearing aids? Duke William, because of pride or stubbornness, refuses. He says the rest of us create the problem by speaking too softly, mumbling, and whispering. I maintain he hears what he wants to hear and has selective deafness. Let me mumble something under my breath that I don’t want him to hear, and he understands it without any problem.

There is a second law of physics that impedes our communication. The importance of the thought to be spoken is inversely proportional to the distance of the body through the doorway. I have yet to learn to cease talking once the Duke clears the doorframe. There has to be some mysterious switch in my brain initiating my most important thoughts and messages to impart to him as soon as he steps out of my sight and out of his limited hearing range. It is frustrating for both of us. Since he is the more mobile partner, I believe it is his duty to return when I ask him. He, on the other hand, feels I need to get my mind more organized and think of these things while I am in his royal presence. I shall censor what happens in our private chambers over this opinion, but suffice it to say, we have had many long and loud discussions on the topic.

The problems escalate when we are on one of our walkabouts among our citizens. Noise such as music, people talking all at once, horses trotting, etc. makes it impossible for Duke William to use his limited hearing. While he is striding along, I am keeping up with him on my trusty scooter, making casual conversation with the people who have come to see us. The Duke’s automatic response to my comments is “What? You know I can’t hear you with all this noise.” So he stops, bends down to hear me as I speak clearly into his “good” ear. What looks like an endearing moment to our citizens is actually my telling him his pants are unzipped.

Persons with hearing loss and persons of short stature can overcome these communication impediments, but they either have to be seated next to each other at the same table or in bed together.