Deafblind Awareness Week 2018 & Reflection on the Past Year

The last week in June was Deafblind Awareness Week. For the last year, I have been a very active volunteer with the local deafblind community here in Adelaide. Our main event for this year’s Deafblind Awareness Week was a panel discussion, with three panellists from the deafblind community (including myself), plus our MC was also deafblind. This is the first event of its kind that we have organised in SA, completely planned and run by the deafblind community. The Royal Society for the Blind were very supportive and kindly provided the use of one of their rooms for the event. We invited people from a wide range of service providers to come and hear our stories, and hopefully gain a better understanding of some of the challenges we face and how they can support us.


I was very involved in promoting this event, as I usually am with our community events. This led to my being asked to be interviewed on Vision Australia Radio about Deafblind Awareness Week, and about our discussion panel. This required being interviewed on the phone. These days the only way I can manage phonecalls is through the National Relay Service. I don’t think the radio host had ever used this method of communication before, and I hadn’t used it in this setting, so I think it was a learning experience for both of us. Even though it was going to be a challenge, I wanted to go ahead with this. Since the discussion was about deafblind awareness, and the NRS is a valuable method of communication for many of us, I wanted to give listeners of the station a chance to see how this worked.


There’s a couple of reasons why I haven’t posted about this closer to Deafblind Awareness Week. Partly, I’ve just been ridiculously busy and quite overwhelmed, but I’ll save some of that for other posts. Mostly, it’s been hard to decide what to write, as I’ve been doing a lot of reflecting on the time since the last Deafblind Awareness Week, and how much has changed for me since then.


Even though we didn’t start promoting the event as early as we would have liked, we were booked out within a few days. We received quite a bit of positive feedback from the audience, and are looking forward to running more events like this in the future. We had prepared quite a lot of topics to discuss, and didn’t get through a lot of it, so we still have plenty more to share about many different aspects of life as deafblind people.


My own experience of deafblindness is not easy to explain. I have always had very low vision, but only started having issues with my hearing around the age of 18. I have already shared some of my rather complex story of hearing loss in a post on here last year, so I won’t repeat what I’ve already said. However, I haven’t talked about it much since then, and there is a big reason for that.


A bit over a year ago, I realised that I was needing people to repeat what they were saying more than usual. My hearing had been stable for quite some time, and I had started to hope it was something I wouldn’t have to worry about too much any more. I started feeling disorientated and struggling to tell the directions of sounds, and missing other small details. At first, I thought my ears were blocked because I had a cold, even though I don’t usually experience blocked ears with a cold. When the cold went away, these issues remained. My gp confirmed that there was no ear infection, not that I’d thought there would be. I visited my audiologist to get my hearing tested. The left hearing aid needed turning up, but although the right ear had lost some hearing, it wasn’t quite bad enough for a hearing aid. The problems with communication had started in noisy environments, but gradually the settings I struggled in increased. When I went for a follow-up test, perhaps a couple of months later, I definitely needed a second hearing aid.


At this point, there was some talk of the audiologist sending me to hospital to try to get some answers about the cause, but I was reluctant to do this. My gp, thinking of the previous diagnosis of conversion disorder, made an appointment for me to see my psychiatrist. After talking through everything that had been going on in my life, my psychiatrist didn’t seem to completely buy the conversion disorder diagnosis. He’s not ruling it out completely, but he doesn’t seem to feel it quite fits, and I’m not sure I do either. Apparently the polite version of the combined opinion of everyone involved in my healthcare is, “no one has a bloody clue,” and everyone is back to scratching their heads in confusion.


It’s been a rough year, and my hearing has continued to deteriorate. I put off going for another hearing test until I was talked into it because I needed up-to-date records to organise a disability access plan for uni (which I’ll talk more about in another post). I expected bad results, but I guess they were worse than I expected. I am now profoundly deaf, and pretty much at the limit of what can be helped with hearing aids. There is no situation where I don’t constantly struggle with communication. I feel like after the last audiology appointment, everyone is quietly waiting for me to lose the rest of my hearing.


I have been seeking out opportunities to learn new ways to communicate, and have learned some valuable new skills through Able Australia, an organisation that if very experienced in working with deafblind people. I am continuing to work on building stronger connections with the local deafblind community. I know I am not alone in my experiences, and will keep advocating for more support for myself and others.



Communication-Friendly Eateries: my accessibility project, primarily for the deafblind community

Last October I was fortunate enough to win a youth leadership scholarship from Deaf Can:Do, the Royal South Australian Deaf Society. I was awarded this scholarship to help me to undertake a project to create a directory of cafes and restaurants that have good accessibility for those in the deafblind community. While my focus is on deafblind accessibility, I will also be sharing this resource with the Deaf community and the blind community. If there is anyone on the autism spectrum, or with any other sensory access needs, who is wondering if this resource could be helpful, please feel free to get in touch. I will provide ways to contact me at the end of this post.

In the middle of last year, when I took on my volunteer role with the deafblind community, one of the challenges that immediately presented itself was the issue of finding meeting places that were accessible for all of us. Given that the term “deafblind” refers to anyone with a combination of vision and hearing loss, our community has quite a wide range of access requirements. When this scholarship was advertised, it seemed like a perfect opportunity to address these issues.

Unfortunately, the project has been off to a slower start than I had originally hoped. This is partly due to the fact that I took on a couple of projects that started at around the same time as each other. In some ways, parts of the project have also been a bit more complex than I fully understood when I started out. I don’t see this as a major problem, but it is definitely a learning experience.

So far, this project has definitely had its challenges, but I believe that all of these can be worked through. When I started out, I thought I knew my own access needs quite well, and that I just needed to make enquiries into the access needs of others in the community. During this time, my hearing has been deteriorating, and so my needs have been changing. As I have had time to get to know more members of the deafblind community, I have also gained a better understanding of just how wide the range of access requirements actually is. To help me to get a clearer picture of what it would take for a café or restaurant to meet as many of these needs as possible, I have created a survey, which I am trying to circulate to as much of the community as I can reach.

Please click here to take my survey.

Although the focus is on the needs of deafblind people, I would also appreciate responses from people who are either Deaf/hard of hearing or blind/vision impaired. If you wish to fill out the survey from the perspective of a professional or a parent/caregiver, it would be preferable if you have some awareness of the specific needs of deafblind people. I really want this project to address the access requirements of as many people as possible.

As well as the main goal of putting together a directory of places that are accessible, I intend this project to be an opportunity for community education. I am hoping this will be an opportunity to raise awareness among business owners about what they can do to make their venues more accessible and how to be adaptable with their communication. If you’re reading this and you own or work in a café or restaurant and want to know more about how to make your venue more deafblind friendly, I would love to hear from you.

Once I have a detailed picture of the community’s needs, I will be traveling around Adelaide and surrounding suburbs, assessing cafes and restaurants to see which ones meet as many of these needs as possible. I hope that some of those that are less accessible will be open to making improvements. I am also hoping to collaborate with some disability organisations later on in the project to arrange training for venue owners and staff in how to provide assistance to deafblind customers. A couple of examples of this would be some basic Auslan training, and how to guide someone to a table.

For anyone interested in following the progress of this project, I have created a Facebook page. This will be a place for me to post updates and seek community input. This is also somewhere that I can mention eateries that don’t quite make the final directory, but which stand out in some way. I hope this will establish positive connections with these businesses, and be an opportunity for education on where they could improve in the future. Anyone is welcome to follow this page. I am passionate about community education, and I welcome questions and feedback.

To keep up-to-date with the project’s progress, or to send me messages on Facebook about anything relating to the project, please visit the

Communication-Friendly Eateries Facebook page

To send me an email,



Communication Difficulties in the Deafblind Community

As a follow-up to my previous post, I thought I’d end Deafblind Awareness Week with a discussion of some issues that have been on my mind over the past week. To anyone else with lived experience of deafblindness, please feel free to share your own experiences or helpful tips in the comments section. At this point it seems important to clarify that the term deafblindness refers to anyone who has a combination of vision and hearing impairment.


Last Tuesday, June 27th, I attended a lunch to celebrate Deafblind Awareness Week. We had some very tasty Indonesian food for lunch, and a visit from a positive and friendly guest speaker from the Health and Community Services Complaints Commission (HCSCC). The thing I found challenging at this lunch was that a lot of us had quite different levels of vision and hearing, this resulted in a range of communication needs.


My vision is a lot worse than my hearing, so I rely on my hearing for communication. At least one person had enough vision to see an interpreter signing. One person was using tactile sign. At least one person had a microphone they could pass around that transmitted straight to their hearing device. I think two of the people present were non-verbal, and a couple of people had voices that were sometimes harder to hear. I think at least one person chose where they sat based on which ear had better hearing so they had a better chance of hearing the guest speaker. As well as the need to let the world know how to communicate with us, I think we need to learn how to better communicate with each other.


I have been in settings a few other times where there has been an Auslan interpreter, but this is the first time where I’ve been in a room with several interpreters at once. I found it quite confusing. I have to wonder if the interpreters had only ever worked with deaf people and didn’t have much experience of communicating with vision impaired people. I can’t really tell when someone is speaking for themselves and when they are interpreting. Also, even if I know someone is interpreting, I don’t always know who they are interpreting for, so don’t know where to direct my reply.


I have a few ideas, and will be discussing them with friends in the local deafblind community when I get a chance. If there’s a setting that requires interpreters, I think it would be helpful to have introductions at the beginning. For example, “I’m Jane, and I’ll be interpreting for Bob,” and then if the interpreter has something to say for themselves during a conversation, “It’s Jane, I’m speaking for myself right now”. I know I need to get more comfortable with asking people what their communication needs are. I’ve been wondering about learning some form of tactile sign. I’ve also been wondering about how to make meeting spaces more accessible for hearing aids and any other hearing devices.


I have a lot to learn, and some questions to ask, and a few ideas to share. I’m looking forward to more involvement with the local deafblind community. I am aware the communication barriers mean it may be challenging to find deafblind people out there in our local community who aren’t aware of our little group or of services that are available to them. Also, I’m sure there are plenty of people out there who, like me, haven’t realised that they fit into the term of deafblind because they aren’t totally deaf or blind.


Deafblind Awareness Week 2017 – My Experience With Dual Sensory Impairment

Hey everyone,


Appologies for the lack of posts so far this year. I’ve been busy just getting through life and dealing with people’s assorted forms of bigotry and nonsense.


Today is the start of Deafblind Awareness Week, so it seems like a good time to share some of my experiences of dual sensory impairment.


I’ve had very low vision for as long as I can remember. I don’t have any clear memories of all of the running around to doctors and specialists in the early days. From what I was told, it took a while to get a diagnosis, and when I did, it turned out to be incorrect. The ophthalmologist I saw throughout most of my childhood got carried away about a couple of observed symptoms and decided my case was exactly the same as a patient he’d seen just before my first appointment with him, and so diagnosed my condition as Rod Monochromatism. As far as I’m aware, he didn’t actually do any tests at all.


As time went on, I realised that people’s expectations of what I could see were very different to my own experiences. Around the time I started school, I was given these thick red glasses that I was told would make me see better. I wore them for a while, partly because they helped with my photophobia, and partly because I liked the colour. (Red has always been the colour I’m most able to see.) When I was six years old, I had an experience at school that made it clear to me that the glasses weren’t helping. I was eating my lunch at an outside table and looking around me, wondering where the duty teacher was. Frustrated, I took off my glasses and looked around me again. Suddenly, I could see the vague shapes that must be other tables with other kids at them, and a sort of person shape that was too tall to be another kid, so must be the duty teacher.


For years after that, I would ask more and more questions about my diagnosis, and try to explain what my experiences of my own vision actually were. It seems like most people don’t want to hear what a kid might have to say about their own life (something I also faced in other areas of my life). Twice that I am aware of, my vision has slightly deteriorated. The first drop in vision was around the time I started primary school. Before school, with much struggling and staring at the page, I could identify the letters in one of those large print alphabet books with the big pictures in it. Some of the pictures were a fuzzy mess to me, but some I could recognise the shape. I started learning Braille as soon as I started school. The second small drop in vision was when I was about 16 years old and had just started going to TAFE. The ophthalmologist had suggested my vision would stay the same, but this was likely because he had decided by then that I didn’t have any functional vision.


I asked around and found another ophthalmologist who seemed to have a good reputation, (not that reputation meant much to me at this point since everyone seemed to think my previous ophthalmologist was brilliant). Anyway, the new guy sent me off for all kinds of tests and eventually decided on a diagnosis of Retinitis Pigmentosa (RP). The symptoms of RP fit better with what I can see. I’m not sure it explains everything about my vision, but it’s the closest diagnosis I’ve had, so I’m fine with that at least for now.


Somewhere around the age of 18 or 19, (it’s hard to remember exactly when), I started losing my hearing. It was getting harder and harder for me to communicate with people, especially if there was background noise. Despite the suggestions of a lot of people around me, it took me a long time to get my hearing tested. Because of my vision impairment, I had always relied a lot on my hearing, and I was in denial that there was anything wrong. Then something happened that dragged me out of denial and convinced me to get my hearing tested. I was hit by a car that was driving the wrong way down a one-way street. Fortunately the car was moving slowly, but no, the driver didn’t stop to check if I was ok. I was a bit sore for a while but didn’t seem to have any significant injuries and didn’t go to get myself checked out.


Not long after that, I went and got my hearing tested. The results weren’t good, and every subsequent test had worse and worse results. I was given two rather large hearing aids with those big chunky moulds that fill the whole ear. It took me a while to adjust to wearing them. I didn’t realise how much I’d got used to things being so quiet. After getting hearing aids, sensory overload was a regular problem for me. One day I was sitting outside with a friend from work. I’d moved house not long after starting to lose my hearing. I put my hearing aids in and said to my mate, “Wow! There are birds in this suburb after all!” I’d lived in the suburb for months without ever hearing birds.


Because my vision impairment had been diagnosed as RP, everyone involved in my healthcare seemed sure that I had Usher Syndrome. They seemed to become more convinced of this as my hearing got worse. Somewhere along the way I was warned that I could end up losing the rest of both my vision and hearing. This scared the absolute shit out of me. Having my ears filled up with some kind of putty so they could get the shape of my ears for the hearing aid moulds gave me a glimpse of what it would be like to be even more deaf than I already was, and it was terrifying. Someone suggested that I do some training under blindfold to prepare myself for the possibility of losing the rest of my vision, and I refused. That too was terrifying.


Eventually the subject was raised of my having the option to get a cochlear implant. I really didn’t understand much about how the implant worked or any risks involved, but I was losing my hearing fast and seemed to be out of options. There should have been more effort put into getting informed consent from a patient with dual sensory impairment. I only heard part of what was said to me in appointments, and rarely (if ever) had a support person present.


I’ll try to leave out any waffling and unnecessary details. Anyway, I ended up getting a cochlear implant. Fortunately, for some reason which was probably told to me without me hearing it, they only did an implant on the left side because my hearing was slightly worse on that side. I don’t know if they planned to see if that was successful and then do the right. The implant didn’t work. I was unable to learn to recognise any of the sounds that came from it. All of the specialists seemed baffled. Going through all of the stress of surgery for nothing was effecting my mental health. Communication after the implant was more of a struggle than before it. There was a bit of residual hearing in my left ear, but it was even worse as a result of the surgery.


Much to everyone’s confusion, and especially mine, the hearing in my right ear gradually started to improve. This is when all of the specialists realised they might have been headed down completely the wrong track. One of the specialists sent me off to see a psychiatrist who he had discussed my case with. It turned out my hearing loss was caused by Conversion Disorder, also known as Functional Neurological Disorder. This is a condition where trauma or psychological distress is converted into physical symptoms that have no other medical explanation.


It took maybe a couple of years for my right ear to have test results in the normal range, and another couple of years for my left ear to improve to just a mild hearing loss. For a while I stopped wearing hearing aids, but I still struggled in some settings. I now wear a hearing aid in my left ear. Hearing less in one ear than the other can really interfere with my sense of direction and distance. Think of it like how if you can see a bit less in one eye than the other it messes with your depth perception. Having a hearing aid really improves this for me. For some reason I am still often prone to sensory overload. My vision seems to have stayed the same for quite a long time now, but there’s no way of knowing if it will deteriorate further until it happens. As far as I know, it’s possible for my conversion disorder to relapse and for me to lose hearing again, but it’s been stable for a few years now and I’m hoping it stays that way.


I was surprised and a little bit confused when I was recently invited to get involved in the local deafblind community. It had been quite a few years since I had thought of myself as deaf, and so I worried that I would be an outsider. However, the community seems to be made up of people with varying degrees of deafblindness. We still have shared experiences of the issues that are specific to having a dual sensory impairment. In the future, I am hoping to take on some voluntary work in the deafblind community.


I’m not sharing this as inspiration porn or pity porn. I’m just sharing it as one person’s experience, to help raise awareness of the many different experiences people may have of deafblindness.


Transgender Day of Rememberance (TDOR) 2016

Today is International Transgender Day of Rememberance (TDOR). It is the day we remember those of us who have lost our lives because of who we are. There are events all around the world where people light candles and read out the list of the names of our dead. Some of these people were murdered, and some were as good as murdered and took their own lives because of the abuse they received because of their identity.


So, why am I not at my local TDOR event right now? It’s supposed to be my own community, right?


The trans community here has not felt like a safe space for me for quite a few years now for a number of reasons. You’d expect that such a marginalized group of people would look out for each other, but they don’t. There were a lot of power games going on, and even when they weren’t directly being abusive towards me, I couldn’t put up with the way they were treating others. I felt on the outside because of being a person with disability. Maybe another day I’ll go into more depth about things that I’ve dealt with from what was supposed to be my community. Despite this issues, I had been seriously considering attending TDOR this year.


Feast Festival, which is the local “lgbt” festival, usually has the TDOR event as part of the festival. However, this year, their closing party was a couple of weeks ago. This is just one of many indications that they’re really only an “lgb” festival that tries to make people think it’s more inclusive than it actually is. They do mention TDOR in the feast guide for this year, but the accessibility section of the guide shows that they didn’t even care about making it accessible to people with disabilities, so there goes my plans for attending.


I’ve felt for a long time like I don’t have a community, and then things like this happen to confirm that I really don’t.