New articles are published every month under the headings below.

The definitive guide to treating hearing loss and auditory disorders in the 21st century

Sept 2018 Theme Medical Publishers

Hearing loss impacts an estimated 360 million people worldwide and may precipitate poorer academic performance, reduced quality of life, decreased social engagement, and increased fatigue. Audiology Treatment, Third Edition by Jason Galster and a cadre of renowned audiology experts, is updated in full colour with 180 illustrations and new topics. Pearls, best practices, and pitfalls on the management and treatment of hearing loss reflect significant knowledge gleaned from the authors' collective experience.

The book is a one-stop resource on hearing aids, covering the many scientific aspects of hearing loss and devices, fitting and measuring patients, and methods to ensure optimal performance over time. In-depth chapters cover the treatment of auditory disorders in children to older adults, including assessments, hearing aid coupling, real-ear measurements, and case studies.

Key Highlights:

  • Physical properties of hearing aids, verification of acoustic performance, methods of audio signal processing to shape and filter sound, and a detailed introduction to prescription devices
  • Clinical outcome measures utilizing quality-of-life, costs analyses, and evidence-based methods
  • The expanded use of cochlear implants in children and adults
  • Unique topics such as bone-anchored hearing aids, assistive technologies, hearing protection, and management of tinnitus and hyperacusis

This title is part of a three-volume set on Audiology (Diagnosis, Treatment, and Practice Management). Together, these books cover every aspect of audiology, providing a remarkably comprehensive resource - essential reading for doctoral students in audiology and must-have bookshelf references for audiologists.

Jason A. Galster

Audiology Treatment

Thieme Publishers, New York, Stuttgart. 2018

376 pp, 304 illustrations

Hardcover

ISBN: 9781626233287

eBook – Available from ebookstore.thieme.com, Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and iTunes

eISBN: 9781626233294 

€89.99/$104.99

iOS 12 Has Brought a New Feature to AirPods, Apple's Futuristic Buds

Sept 2018 FirstPost Tech2 and Inverse

Apple recently announced iOS 12 for iPhones and iPads, highlighting the entire aspect of digital wellbeing by encouraging users to stay away from their phones when they need to. However, iPhones and iPads weren't the only devices to benefit from the update. The AirPods which already feature a bunch of gesture-based functions when paired to an iOS device now gets 'Live Listen', a feature which turns your AirPods into a digital hearing aid. The feature may have been barely advertised by Apple, on the whole, but the feature does come across as quite handy for a lot of people.

AirPods

The Apple AirPods can now be turned into digital hearing aid. There is one thing which needs a little clearing out here and that is the fact that AirPods, even with the Live Listen feature on, certainly does replace certified hearing aids. The feature is meant to be an assistant and not really a permanent solution for people with a hearing loss. Those with a mild hearing loss, who aren't particularly keen on spending a fortune on buying a hearing aid, might be able to use the feature just fine. The technology behind the feature, called Live Listen, was launched in 2014 and was originally only compatible with certified hearing aids, made as part of Apple’s Made for iPhone hearing aid effort. The software update finally makes the feature more accessible.

live listenTo turn Live Listen on, head over to your iPhone's Settings pane, scroll down till you find the Control Centre menu and then tap on 'Customise controls.' Then scroll down to add 'Hearing' to the Control Centre. Once your Airpods are paired, pull up the Control Centre and tap on the 'Ear' icon to turn on the feature. Your phone will then turn the headset into a remote microphone that you can point in any general direction to hear better.

Live Listen feature on iOS 12

Myths and Misconceptions Surrounding Hearing-Impaired are Deafening

Sept 2018 The Globe Post

A&E’s one-hour documentary called Deaf Out Loud featured three predominantly deaf families to show that not all deaf people are alike, but by spreading myths and a narrow view the broadcast only widened the divide between deaf and hearing people.

deaf out loud

Deaf Out Loud trailer. Photo: YouTube

One friend was surprised she didn’t scream at the TV until half an hour in. Another poured a stiff drink before viewing. I gritted my teeth and forced myself to watch for the purposes of journalism. No, this wasn’t another White House Press Briefing, but a one-hour documentary on A&E called Deaf Out Loud. Airing recently, the show features three predominantly deaf families to show that not all deaf people are alike and to bring the deaf and hearing worlds together.

If anything, however, the show has widened the divide as it promulgates misconceptions about deafness. It’s basically a “disgraceful, one-sided, piss-poor piece of propaganda,” as someone so astutely stated on social media.

I know this because I’m deaf. In fact, as a deaf journalist, I’m appalled. If parents of a newly diagnosed deaf child were to watch this show, they wouldn’t have accurate information about deafness, much less all the options available to them.

The three families on the show are the Mansfields, Garcias, and Posners. Manny Mansfield and his wife Sheena are deaf and use American sign language (ASL). They have two daughters; one hearing, one deaf. Paco Garcia has been deaf since birth, and his wife April is a hearing child of deaf parents. They have six kids, four of whom are deaf. The family speaks and signs. Mick Posner was born profoundly deaf, as was his son Henry, while Mick’s wife Rachel and their daughter Faith have a progressive hearing loss. They all wear hearing aids (HAs) and use a combination of speaking, reading lips, and ASL to communicate.

Ten thousand points to Hufflepuff if you can figure out what the number one takeaway is already: the assumption that all deaf people sign, even if they use listening and spoken language (LSL). This LSL demographic isn’t a small group, as only about 5 percent of children born deaf or hard of hearing are born to deaf or hard of hearing parents. These parents usually choose to raise their children with an LSL approach. It’s also common for deaf parents who have deaf children to choose LSL. In a survey by the National Center for Hearing Assessment and Management, 66 percent of families reported their child’s primary communication modality was either only or mostly LSL. Just 6 percent of families reported their child used only or mostly ASL.

The show feeds into this erroneous assumption with its first figure – “the Deaf community in the U.S. is made up of over 35 million people,” which isn’t accurate. This number refers to anyone with a hearing loss, including those with mild hearing loss who don’t use hearing aids or any technology. The largest portion is people who lost their hearing as ageing adults. By lumping everyone together in the capital-D Deaf community, speaking deaf or hard of hearing people are miscounted. The big-D signing community has actually been estimated to be under a half million.

When cochlear implants are addressed, the show loses all semblance of objectivity. A screenshot says that 80,000 people worldwide have CIs of which 60 percent are children. This number is too low. It’s about 100,000 in the U.S. and probably close to 300,000 worldwide, according to Donna Sorkin, Executive Director of the American Cochlear Implant Alliance.

Only half of all American children who could benefit from a CI actually receive one, compared to Europe, where 9 in 10 receive implants. This is because many American parents don’t know about this option, and that’s partially due to the information provided coming from the Deaf cultural community: deaf people for whom deafness and sign language make up their primary identity.

Indeed, by lowballing these numbers, April’s claim in Deaf Out Loud that getting cochlear implants (CIs) is a risky procedure appears to be substantiated. In reality, it’s a common surgery, has lower risks than many other surgeries and is even done on an outpatient basis. April says that CIs can cause nerve damage, facial paralysis, and constant headaches. Nerve damage and facial paralysis are extremely rare because electrodes are placed on the patient’s face to monitor the facial nerve during surgery. Some people may experience headaches in the first week after activation as the brain gets used to sound input, but otherwise, headaches aren’t typical.

There are many published studies on the safety and efficacy of CIs. One device from one company over a decade ago was associated with a few deaths in children due to meningitis but has since been corrected. Every recipient is now supposed to get the meningitis vaccine prior to surgery. Deaf people who consider deafness to be the main part of their identity and culture are threatened by CIs and tend to believe in myths the way April does.

At one point, Manny and his wife disagree about the options that should be presented to a family of a newly diagnosed deaf child. Manny thinks ASL should be the first option and CI the last. “Of course [hearing parents are] going to go with the CI when doctors are giving them the message that their child should be fixed so that they can be more like their parents.”

I asked my parents what they thought of Manny’s claim. They said it “definitely wasn’t about us, but rather all about you. To us, using ASL as your primary language would likely be a narrower life (fewer options and opportunities) versus you being independent and living a full life.” Every day, I’m grateful that my parents made this decision.

What’s really interesting is that all six parents are in the ASL business, with two of the three families making money off of ASL. Chalk this up to one of those things that make you go hmm. This gets to the crux of my problem with Deaf Out Loud: it purports to represent the diversity of deaf people, yet it really only speaks for 1 in 70 people with hearing loss, as in the ones who sign. Spreading myths and a narrow view does the public a gross disservice.

Invisible Music: Unique performance of music, words and visuals inspired by those with hearing loss

Sept 2018 On the Wight

Next month a unique performance of music, words and visuals at Quay Arts attempts to address the process of hearing loss this with an immersive and very moving piece inspired by people whose hearing has deteriorated.

Quay Arts

What happens when the soundtrack of your life changes; when you are listening but hearing differently? ‘Invisible Music’ is a major touring project by performance group Platform 4 whose last show, Memory Points, was one of The Guardian’s Top Ten shows of 2015. Featuring five multi-instrumentalists the show is an acoustic experimental delight devised by Pete Flood, arranger/percussionist with folk supergroup Bellowhead, and Jules Bushell, P4’s long-term sound designer.

Like a live concept album layered with exquisite audio snippets and stunning visuals, it has been inspired by a series of interviews the company made with members of Winchester’s lip reading group and describes their experiences and stories through a loose narrative of six musical movements: From setting sail into unknown waters, to sinking underwater, to surfacing and eventually finding land. All told through a variety of musical instruments and sampled voices.

This is Platform 4’s most personal project to date, Artistic Director, Catherine Church says:

“This piece was inspired by my mother who initially started me thinking about this project because she showed me a poem she had written called ‘Surreal Existence’ about her own experiences of gradually losing her hearing. “That was the starting point, and from there I started going to Mum’s lip reading class and meeting more people. I asked myself: Could I make a sound-piece about the loss of sound?”

She has certainly succeeded, the show is picking up rapturous praise with one reviewer saying that it, “… captured all the emotions and frustrations of losing one’s hearing and created a real sense of understanding! There were so many diverse situations and challenges. “The music and the visuals wonderfully captured the feelings and were very moving.” 

Quay Arts manager, Paul Armfield, says, “I am thrilled to have Platform 4 performing here, this is a genuinely unique experience, the music alone is simply incredible, but coupled with the text and visuals the effect is unforgettable and deeply moving. It’s such a rare thing to be able to host a musical performance of such a high calibre that can be enjoyed by all, with or without hearing difficulties.”

‘I loved the deafened world, place of magnificence and revelation. But I was always just a tourist’

Sept 2018 Toronto Star

In this excerpt from Sound: A Memoir of Hearing Lost and Found, Greystone Books 2018, English author Bella Bathurst writes about how silence and sound contribute to our lives. And she tells the personal story of losing her hearing for 12 years — and then regaining it.

Sound had come back into me with the force of revelation and I had no idea what to do with myself. I could hear! I could hear!!!! I’d been hearing for 28 years and deaf for 12, and since I’d gone back to being hearing again, everything was bigger than I had the capacity to express.

I wanted everything. I wanted to try everything, listen to everything. I wanted to go up to strangers in the street and ask them if they had any idea of the miracles taking place inside their heads. I wanted to tell them that this hearing thing — this basic feature, fitted totally as standard in every working model — turned out, upon examination, to be a piece of kit which made the works of Shakespeare seem slack by comparison.

I wanted to scroll dotingly through photos on mobiles, pull up proud scrapbooks of cochleas and temporal lobes, exchange reminiscences about auditory cortexes. I wanted to declare myself sound. I hoped these people knew how many miracles they had inside their heads, and just how much of the time they squandered those miracles on automated lift announcements and three-for-two offers on fabric conditioner.

I sat in cafés, blissed by the opportunity to eavesdrop on people bitching about their colleagues. I struck up conversations with strangers on trains or found excuses to offer directions to tourists. I rang up friends in Orkney or Greenock just because I wanted to hear the way they said “modern” or “cosmetic” and savoured the tastes of each professional dialect — the wipe-clean tones of nursing staff or get-in-quick diction of cold-callers. Several times I lost the thread of discussions because I was too busy listening to the sensation of listening rather than the sense.

I talked to people on the tube. I took my new hearing to films, parties and bicycle races, I experimented with power tools and hung out round chainsaws. I stood below telegraph lines to hear the scribble of swallows or climbed hills to find the lilt of a curlew. I greeted the three-note preamble to a train announcement like an old friend and tripped out on the sheer poetry in “Cashier number THREE, please!”

Bella BathurstI watched TV not because I was interested in what was on, but because I loved the indulgence of sitting there just moving the volume button up and down. I wasn’t groping for a single word any longer or making approximate swipes at possible topics. I could hear a whole sentence! Every  letter of every word! I could make out all of what people were saying from beginning to end! I was astounded by the thrill of exactitude. I could hear accent, dialect, nuance, mood. I could understand, and once I understood, I could connect. I had come home.

And that, to be honest, is how it felt. For 28 years I had been a native in the land of the hearing and for twelve I had been a traveller through the world of the deaf. Sometime in 1998 I had taken my place in the 10-million-strong queue of dispossessed hearers all shuffling down the lines towards a place we didn’t want to be.

I’d left protesting and bewildered, and I’d arrived at my destination transfigured. I’d been one person and now I was another. Somewhere along that journey I’d discarded many of the things I’d been carrying and picked up new tools better suited for the job. I’d left a lot of myself behind, and I’d brought some along for the ride. I learned the language, I picked up a few local habits and secrets, I met some people I would be glad to call friends for life.

By the end, I loved the deafened world and understood it as a place of magnificence and revelation. But the truth is, I had never stopped walking. I was always just a tourist. At the same time as I was savouring sound I was also readjusting to a world in which I could, if I chose, be completely indifferent to it. In many ways I found it bizarre how easy I found it to return to the world I’d lived in before. There was nothing I had to do, no recalibration to be made. Sound was there, sound was gone, sound came back. It was as if I’d walked back into the space I’d walked out of 12 years ago and found it unchanged. Two stupendously sophisticated, complex operations had produced something that was … simple.

For a couple of months afterwards, I still dabbed around on the bedside table in search of the hearing aids every morning when I woke up. After the operations I’d put the aids away in my makeup bag, where they sank beneath a layer of eyeliners and vanished from view. After a year or so — or some period of time long enough to convince myself this new hearing thing was for real — I took them out, cleaned them up and sent them to Jacqui so she could plunder the mechanisms for someone else.

When the second ear had healed fully, I also discovered I was no longer tired all the time. Because my brain was no longer working at full capacity to filter and process sound, whole holds of internal storage space seemed suddenly to have become free. I didn’t need nine hours of sleep a night, and I no longer slept like I’d been hit. And if I was woken by car alarms or drills, well, that seemed like a fair exchange to me.

I also felt a certain amount of survivor’s guilt. I had been astonishingly lucky, and I knew it. For 12 years, I had believed that this was only going to get worse, and then at the last moment I had been offered an alternative. At the moment, there are very few hearing conditions which are operable, though the possibilities continue to expand every year. The real breakthrough will come when we can work out how to regenerate hair cells just as birds do. After all, if there are 11 million people with hearing loss in the U.K. alone, then that’s 11 million incentives to improve the situation. Until then there are no real cures for sensorineural hearing loss, only remedies.

So for all I had returned to a world I’d inhabited before, this time it was different. Though it might initially have seemed reasonable to behave as I had for the first 28 years, it wasn’t the same. I knew more. I understood more.

I understood what hearing could do and what it couldn’t and the spaces it could fill between one person and another. I understood that I had been given a second chance, and that it was my job to live every last drop of that chance. So I got happy — just straightforwardly, normally happy. I moved out of London, kept writing, used what I’d learned about listening and about life. The things I’d discovered while deaf came with me. This time around I truly knew the value both of what I’d got, and what I’d got back.

And one day it might happen again. Some stapedectomies last forever, some don’t, and statistically I’m exactly as likely to suffer age-related hearing loss as anyone else. But I’m lucky. If it happens again, I know the old country now. I know its landscape, something of its politics and a lot of its people, and if I need to, I can go native.

Do animals have better hearing than humans?

Aug 2018 Health 24

Has civilisation blunted man's hearing abilities, or have we just evolved in a different direction? There is a general perception that humans don't hear as well as animals – mainly because they can hear many sounds we can’t. Added to this is the fact that humans have become less dependent on their senses for survival. As hunter-gatherers, our forefathers relied on especially their sight and hearing to stay alive – which changed when humans became agriculturalists around 10 000 years ago.  Were we just never as sharp as our animal friends, is it a case of "use it or lose it", or are there other factors at play? 

Loudness and pitch
According to Widex, the human audible range is dependent on the pitch (high or low) and loudness of sound. We use Hertz (Hz) to measure pitch and decibels (dB) to measure loudness. As far as pitch is concerned, human hearing starts at about 20Hz and ends at 20 000Hz, but our hearing is most sensitive between 2 000 and 5 000Hz. The pitch of a dog whistle is too high and the roar of a wind turbine too low for humans to hear. When it comes to loudness, in our most sensitive range humans can actually hear softer sounds than dogs and cats. We can safely be exposed to sounds ranging from 0 to 85dB. Anything louder than that can eventually damage our hearing. An ambulance siren is about 125dB, and normal human speech around 65dB. Hearing loss usually starts by affecting our upper pitches, which means that we will have difficulty hearing sounds like birdsong and instruments, such as flutes and piccolos. By middle age our upper range can drop to between 12 000 and 14 000Hz.

Some interesting animal hearing facts

  • Dolphins do not have ears. Instead, they rely on eardrums located outside their bodies. They also use sonar, or echolocation, to enhance their already superior hearing abilities. dolphins01
  • Bats also utilise echolocation to determine location and size of things in the dark. In fact, they can find small insects 9m away in pitch darkness.

  • Cats are able to hear higher frequencies than both humans and dogs. Their ear muscles also allow them to rotate their ears up to 180°.

 

cat

  • Elephants are tuned into frequencies 25 times lower than humans. Their feet and trunk also have specialised receptors for detecting low-frequency vibrations.





elephant foot

  • Dogs can hear frequencies way above humans. That's why they know you're home long before anyone else.
  • Pigeons can hear sounds as low as 0.5Hz and can detect distant storms, earthquakes and even volcanoes. Pigeons are also the best navigators in the world.
  • Monkeys' hearing is slightly less acute than that of humans at frequencies below 8 000Hz, but extends up to 45 000Hz, which is an octave above the upper human limit.

In defence of modern humans
It is true that humans cannot detect sounds occurring at all frequencies – but neither can animals. A study done by researchers at Binghamton University in New York found that early humans could hear better than both chimpanzees and modern humans at certain frequencies. They studied the anatomy and reconstructed the hearing capabilities of some of our ancestors who lived in South Africa.   The researchers found that our early ancestors were especially good at hearing frequencies between 1 500 and 3 500Hz, which would include the sounds of rustling leaves – and nowadays vacuum cleaners, telephones and hard consonants.

Instead of regressing as one might expect, modern humans' hearing ability has become even more acute in the slightly higher frequencies. In fact, as mentioned above, modern humans are proficient at hearing sounds from 2 000 to 5 000Hz, and actually fare better than other primates in that range. Being able to excel at higher frequencies is good for “complex short-range vocal communication”. This explains why we are better at having an intimate conversation across a dinner table than grunting and howling at each other out in nature. Chimps for instance have trouble hearing some sounds we use in spoken language. 

Between Sound and Silence

Aug 2018 New York Times

Aug 2018 New York Times

For a generation of people with cochlear implants, technology is transforming the experience of deafness.  By Irene Taylor Brodsky an independent filmmaker and the parent of a deaf child.

A lot can happen in two generations. I was born to deaf parents and now I’m the mother of a deaf son. He was sitting on my lap in diapers when the audiologist first detected he couldn’t hear everything. By the age of 4, he heard nothing.

I grew up in the 1970s around lots of deaf people. In deaf time, it was the prehistoric era, before modern TTYs (teletypewriters) were common, and before the Americans With Disabilities Act and smartphones even existed. Scientists and surgeons were working on a device to improve hearing. The hope was that the device, called a cochlear implant, might eventually enable even profoundly deaf people to understand speech and to articulate a typical human voice. The closer they got to that goal, the more resistance they met. Some deaf people bristled at the implication that they needed to be “fixed” with an implant. They lamented what they considered the forced disconnection of deaf children from an unadulterated deaf experience with signed language. When the F.D.A. finally approved cochlear implants for American children in 1990, the global protest movement peaked. The American Sign Language word for “cochlear implant” was two curved fingers zapping the base of the skull, like a snake biting its prey. At colleges for the deaf, students with implants were shunned.

Around that time, I was in Nepal, documenting the lives of deaf people and learning their signed languages. I saw no assistive communication devices, and as in many impoverished countries, discrimination against deaf people was rampant. Deaf children couldn’t get a basic education. No one was complaining about the opportunity to hear better there. Whether to get a cochlear implant was, and still is, a first-world debate.

As a daughter and a filmmaker, I felt certain that technology was making things easier for deaf people. But now, as a mother, I mostly felt anguish. All the decisions involving the raising of a deaf kid in the 21st century really came down to one: Do his father and I ask surgeons to drill into my son’s head and thread an electrode array into his cochlea, all for the sake of sound? We weren’t asking political questions. We were asking human ones.

My parents had just gotten cochlear implants, at 65. I made a documentary about their experience, but it was less about their decision to undergo the surgery — for them, that was an easy one — but how, once they could hear, their relationship to the world, and to each other, changed. The sound of our voices, of birds, water and wind, was exciting at first, but then bewildering, even annoying. My parents had already built such meaningful and accomplished lives living in silence; I wondered if introducing the ability to hear into their lives was worth the risk of losing all that. After all, all the implant does is open a new pathway to sound. What our exquisitely human brain does with it is the thing that really matters.

“Implant him early in life,” one of our son’s doctors, Jane Madell, advised us, “and I promise, the brain will do the rest.” A renowned paediatric audiologist, Dr. Madell was researching the same questions I had: How does augmenting a sense fundamentally shift the human experience, particularly in deaf kids?

Our search for the answers became this film. We interviewed 14 of Dr. Madell’s former patients, those young enough to be born after cochlear implantation was viable yet old enough to have insight into the experience. They had navigated the frontiers of deafness, disability and the human experience. They spoke to us about identity, sexual intimacy and coming of age somewhere between sound and silence. And they talked about the sometimes wrenching decision of whether to hear or not. That’s a choice most of us will never make. And it’s one we ultimately decided we want our son to take on for himself, each day, as he grows up. We implanted him at 4, then again (on the other side) at 8. Today, he takes his “unit” off sometimes to read, experience music differently, or just to have a break in total silence. His grandparents are teaching him sign language, and he just learned the new sign for “cochlear implant.” It’s no longer the snake bite, but simply two fingers fastening to the head, like a magnet. The sign, just like deafness, has evolved.

Mum of miracle tot who fought and survived meningitis urges parents to know the warning signs

Aug 2018 NW Evening Mail

Little George Butler was just four-and-half-months-old when pneumococcal meningitis took hold.

The bacterial type of meningitis, which affects the brain and spine, caused the baby to have a mild seizure at home. George's terrified mum, Bethan Butler, rushed him by car to A&E at Furness General Hospital, in Barrow, where she has praised the medics who saved his life and the team who supported the family George was heavily sedated and transferred to the Royal Manchester Children's Hospital to be treated on the intensive care ward. He spent 11 days at Manchester under sedation. Two days after being woken he was transferred back to Barrow's FGH on the children's ward, where he spent a further week in hospital. He was also treated for a blood clot.

Following the ordeal in July last year, it was discovered that George had been left profoundly deaf by the meningitis and he would go on to have cochlear implant surgery to allow him to hear again.

Now George is 16-months-old and doing well. Mrs Butler said she is "eternally grateful" to the medics who saved his life. Despite his setbacks with his hearing, he has started to talk. His family live on a small farm and George loves the tractors, and 'tractor' was his first word just a few weeks ago.

George's family is wanting to warn others about some of the early signs of meningitis in children as there is not always a rash present, as was the case with George. They want to encourage others to look at the Meningitis Now charity's early signs of meningitis and septicaemia in babies and toddlers chart (see chart below and further details are available at meningitisnow.org). The charity and the Butler's say 'trust your instincts - get medical help immediately.’

meningitis signs

Two days before being rushed to A&E, George was treated for a throat and ear infection, but his condition deteriorated. Mrs Butler said it was the "worst time of their lives" for herself and husband, Robert, both 27. She said: "George became so, so poorly. There was no rash, but he had been grunting, which can be a sign. "When were at home his eyes started to flicker, like a small seizure. He was unresponsive. I just put him in the car and rushed him to A&E. We were so worried about him. The youngster had been vaccinated against meningitis, but it turned out that he had a rare strain which was not vaccinated for, but that may change after research. "We would say to other parents, please do not just think you are looking for a rash with meningitis, look for the early symptoms and get medical help."

Events Coming Up

28 Oct 2018;
10:30AM - 02:00PM
Illawarra Cochlear Implant Support Group
11 Nov 2018;
11:00AM - 03:00PM
Sunday BBQ - November AGM
20 Nov 2018;
06:30PM - 08:00PM
Preserving Residual Hearing Seminar

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