Catheterization—trying to reach ear “blockages” through the nose
Electricity, UV light, and vibration applied to different parts of the ear
Artificial eardrums placed in ear canal
Increased desire for “hidden” aids
20TH CENTURY
Airplane rides, particularly upside down, to “correct” ear pressure
Electromagnetic head cap
Hypnosis
Hearing aids: analog body, behind the ear, in the ear, and bone-anchored aids with digital aids increasing programming specificity
First cochlear implants introduced
21ST CENTURY
Rise of cochlear implants:
internal and external device components
bypasses inner ear to stimulate auditory nerve rather than amplify sound
earlier models destroy residual hearing
success varies widely
In development:
rehabilitative stem cell therapies
gene and genome editing
While hearing people have attempted to cure deafness for centuries, it’s important to note a difference in technological power, age of application, and permanence for 21st-century cures, raising questions of ethics and consent.
Deaf children are already non-consensually implanted with CIs, but what happens when an infant is injected with stem cells and made hearing, or a fetus is “edited” in utero?
DISCUSSION QUESTIONS:
What are the medical community’s ethical obligations when it comes to preserving human diversity?
At what line does the practice of “designer babies” become unethical, and who gets to decide?
austin spent the rest of Tuesday evening and all of their truncated Wednesday schedule awash with humiliation, playing The Incident on a loop in his head—how pigheaded he’d been, how thoughtless, how extremely white. He felt terrible about it, and that had been the impetus for his apology, though even as he’d talked with Kayla there was the nagging thought of Charlie having witnessed it all. Would Kayla tell Charlie he’d tried to make it right? That he’d met with her after school to do her TikTok, and had also promised expressly not to be a dick?
He hadn’t talked to Charlie since. He’d given her an anxious hug that night as they parted on the walkway between dorms, but Austin had felt her hesitation, a hairline fracture blooming between them in the dusk.
Then there was the matter of his family. Something was off. Austin hadn’t talked to his parents much—really talked—since Sky was born. He’d spent his weekends splayed on the couch half-watching reruns of old medical dramas and Spider-Man movies, or sequestered in his room doing homework; he’d even gone over to Cole’s house to play video games, though he’d never had the taste for them—anything to avoid prolonged interaction with his father. His mom was exhausted and consumed with tending to Sky, but things between her and Austin had basically returned to normal. With his father, though, it still felt hard.
Returning to school each Monday was a relief. He and his parents had a long-standing text thread just to check in, where they asked him about school and scheduled times to video chat. But besides the occasional baby picture dropped in without comment—Sky in a Buckeyes onesie, or footie pajamas, or looking lopsided in tummy time—the chat had grown quiet over recent weeks. When his father finally did call, it had been to tell Austin to take the SORTA home. He’d been hoping they would pick him up so he could make a dent in his laundry, but he didn’t mention it. They were busy with a newborn, after all.
Now he arrived home to find the house empty. He tucked his duffel bag in his room and beelined for the kitchen, where he crammed himself with leftover pot roast, cold and straight from the Tupperware, eating around the bits of congealed fat. His parents found him this way, carrying with them a groundswell of tension that ran through the kitchen like a cold snap. His mother didn’t even chide him for eating standing up—a pet peeve of hers—and instead clutched him in a tighter than usual hug. Over her shoulder, Austin thought he saw his father roll his eyes.
Welcome home, said his mother.
Still in the car seat on the floor, Skylar began to fuss. Austin surveyed his father, anticipating a lullaby or a coo, but he said nothing with his mouth, just retrieved the baby from her seat and nestled her in the crook of one arm, signed to her about warming a bottle.
How were midterms? said his father as he stuck the bottle beneath hot water.
Pretty easy. Trig was my only test. The others were papers. And Sybeck always forgets to deduct points for Deaf grammar.
Great, his father said.
Everything o-k?
Fine, said his mother.
Where were you guys?
Doctor.
His father motioned with his head to Sky.
She’s fine.
Any shots? Is she still tall for her age?
70th percentile!
Wow!
He reached for Sky and carefully positioned her the same way his father had held her, then congratulated her on how she could become the first ever Workman to be good at basketball.
Wanna feed her? said his mother. Test it on your wrist.
He took the bottle and watched Sky drink fervently. He could feel his parents saying something in his periphery, their signs growing forceful behind him, but he was spellbound by Skylar’s wide eyes—still blue—and the concentration she devoted to eating. When he finally looked up, it was because his father had stomped on the floor. He’d done it to get his mother’s attention, but the vibrations ran through Austin and Sky just the same, and they both turned to him.
You tell him.
His father stalked off toward the den.
Tell me what?
Your father’s just upset. He doesn’t like change.
What’s wrong?
We weren’t at the pediatrician. We were at the audiologist.
With Sky? I thought—
Your father noticed her responding less to voices, sounds. I figured she’s an infant, how can you tell? But they tested, and her threshold has dropped to around 40 d-B.
She’s…hard of hearing?
Seems like it. But with today’s hearing aids they can amplify so much. That’s where we were just now—earmold fitting.
And Dad’s upset?
Burp her, his mother said, handing him a cloth.
Austin threw it over his shoulder and hoisted Sky up, tapped her on the back.
More.
He clapped her harder; a wet burp rattled through them both.
She burps like an old man! he said, and they laughed.
Don’t be too tough on your father. When you were born, I was happy I had someone to share Deaf culture with. He felt the same about Sky.
Hearing culture?
You know, podcasts, being impressed by rhymes, hatred of subtitles?
His mother winked.
At least Dad doesn’t hate subtitles.
Dad works hard making sure everything’s accessible for us.
I know, Austin said.
He just needs time to process.
Austin returned Skylar to the dregs of her bottle.
What about you?
I loved Skylar before and I love her now. I do worry things will be harder for her, same as I did for you. But…
Austin raised his eyebrows.
It’s tradition, she said.
His mother flashed a small, impish smile. The bottle emptied, Skylar began to cry and Austin returned the baby to his mother.
Remember, gentle on your dad.
He nodded and went into the den. A series of spreadsheets were open on the monitor, but his father was playing with a Slinky.