In May, as our scientific institution began to open back up and whispers about face-to-face lab meetings started to float around, I panicked.
My hearing loss began when I was in graduate school. At first, I fondly thought I could overcome it with hard work. I began to record every one-on-one meeting because even with the strongest focus I just couldn't catch everything, and taking notes is not a choice when you rely on lip-reading. In meetings, I sat in the front row, tiring myself as I strained to both hear the speaker and process the science. So, in the fourth year, I decided cochlear implants(耳蜗植入) were the right next step.
The week after I began to hear with both implants, I attended a conference. I looked over every listening environment to plan my equipment and where I needed to be located during the event. It worked OK — but it was still tiring, and I felt excluded from so much.
When meetings were held online, my experience was much better. The sound quality was clear, without the powerful noises of a physical office space or meeting room. I could sit back and let the sound come to me. It was easier to focus, participate, and think deeply about the science. I felt a sense of belonging. I began to leave seminars feeling refreshed rather than needing a short sleep.
I didn't want to be forced back into struggling to understand. So, with anxiety, I contacted my adviser to make a simple hearing plan which includes asking presenters to use a microphone for our lab meetings. It worked. Now, a few weeks later, my anxiety is gradually giving way to scientific curiosity and questions enabled by feeling included and worthy of belonging. A few of my lab mates have even thanked me because they, too, were unable to hear people without microphones. Maybe instead of rushing back to "normal", we can all take this opportunity to create environments that are more welcoming — for everyone.