Like Icarus
On flying and falling
September is Deaf Awareness Month, so it seemed like a good time to (re)share this essay on hearing loss—with a smattering of Greek mythology, Yaqui sweat lodge ceremonies, and the quiet, insistent aches of living with limitations.
Walk with me into a tiny, padded room, gray as grief except for the wires and headset dangling from the wall, a square piece of glass serving as a window to a different gray room.
Sit in the gray chair, which faces a poster detailing the warning signs for swimmer’s ear. Put on the headset. Wait. A woman’s voice booms in the eerie hush of the room. Her face is stern, expressionless through the glass.
“Don’t look at me,” she says. “If you can see my hands on the knobs, it might interfere with the test.”
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The cockpit of a Cessna 150 airplane is barely big enough to hold your ambitions. And at 20 years old, they are enormous. But get in anyway. The man sitting next to you, who was chatty and jovial three minutes ago, has now gon…