My Hearing Aid Journey

Do you remember the hearing tests you used to take in grade school? The nurse would put headphones on you and say “raise your hand when you hear a beep,” then close the doors to the dark room. Maybe you’d think you heard something and raise your hand—only to hear, “Dear, we haven’t started yet.”

For me, those audiology tests weren’t an occasional check-in. They were routine. I grew up rotating through three different audio specialists, sitting in those tiny rooms every three months for five years. Those dark rooms became familiar—almost comforting—along with the doctors who saw me more than some of my teachers. And my motivation for enduring it all? The lollipops waiting at the end.

My Story

When I was eleven, my mom took me to yet another audiologist appointment. It was a hot summer day, my cousin was visiting, and the last place I wanted to be was a hospital. But this visit was different—one I’ll never forget.

After finishing the usual test, we sat in the doctor’s office as he explained that new technology could now measure the level at which I hear sound and play it back. He pressed a button, and soft whispers filled the room. I watched tears well in my mom’s eyes as she listened. To me, the sound was completely normal. I walked out, insisting the machine was broken because I could hear just fine.

That day, the doctor recommended Cochlear Implants. He explained the two components—the external piece worn on or off the ear, and the internal surgical implant—held together by a magnet. He showed us photos of kids wearing them.

Maybe it was vanity. Maybe it was denial. Maybe I simply hadn’t experienced the real consequences of hearing loss yet. But I refused. My mom respected that, and the conversation ended there.

Over the next few years, test after test, I was never “deaf enough” for insurance to cover hearing aids. What I didn’t know was that my mom spent hours applying to grants—every one of them denied.

My first hearing aids finally came in seventh grade through a Pinellas County Schools program. I didn’t know any of it was happening until a specialist called me into the office. She handed me the devices and told me to store them at school overnight because I couldn’t take them home.

I remember putting them in for the first time. The bell rang. Students flooded the hallways, feet shuffling, lockers slamming, voices echoing—an avalanche of sound I had never heard so loudly. I ripped the hearing aids out and ran. Even now, I can still feel the panic of that moment.

My journey with hearing loss—discovering it, rejecting it, and eventually trying to accept it—has been long. I’m 21 now, and I’m still processing it. According to the CDC, 40% of young adults with childhood hearing loss experience at least one limitation in daily functioning. Since age 12, I’ve had three sets of hearing aids. Some phases I wear them regularly; others I feel frustrated by their limitations, especially after the pandemic made me realize how much I rely on lip reading.

Hearing Aid Advancements

Today, hearing aids continue to evolve. Artificial Intelligence (AI) and the Internet of Things (IoT) have opened the door to “smart” hearing aids that go far beyond sound amplification. While researching for a class project, I realized how valuable hearing aids can be—not just for people like me, but for everyone.

Livio AI

Starkey’s Livio AI is the world’s first "Healthable" hearing aid, using sensors and AI to track physical activity and cognitive health through an app. It also offers real-time language translation—27 languages streamed directly into your hearing aids through the Thrive app. For global business or travel, the potential is incredible.

Bluetooth + Smart Integrations

Modern hearing aids can connect to multiple devices. For example, a business owner can link their hearing aids to a security system using IFTT (If This Then That). When a customer enters the store, an alert is sent directly to the hearing aids—creating an immediate, silent notification system.

The technology is incredible. But accessibility still isn’t.

A Look Ahead

A future goal of mine is to help kids like I was in middle school access hearing aids without the financial barriers. No child should wait years, or depend on chance programs, to hear the world clearly.

It’s estimated that by 2050, over 700 million people—one in every ten—will have disabling hearing loss. The need is growing, and the technology is advancing. What’s missing is equal access.

My journey isn’t just about hearing loss—it’s about turning a challenge into a purpose. And I hope the next generation of kids sits in those dark testing rooms with a little less fear, a lot more support, and a world ready to meet them with sound.