Annette Barker testimonial - transcript

My name is Annette Barker. I was born in Hastings and moved to Napier when I was four years old. I now reside in Auckland. I have three delightful adult daughters, three long-suffering sons-in-law, and two awesome grandchildren.

Growing up, my grandfather was blind and my grandmother was deaf. As a child, I would watch both, and I concluded I would rather be blind. My grandfather could laugh and talk with family and friends, and my grandmother would just sit in the corner and smile and nod. The Blind Foundation had provided my grandfather with talking books and a white stick. My grandmother had nothing but a hearing aids that whistled and irritated everyone.

In 2009, I realised that everyone in the room could understand my brother talking but me. And so began my hearing journey at the age of 56. A journey which would see me endure shame, embarrassment, cruel things people would say and at times I was made to feel stupid. I was not deaf enough for the deaf community which I tried to get involved with and I enrolled in sign language classes. At this time I wasn't considered deaf enough for a cochlear implant.

In 2019, I was convinced by my audiologist, Nigel Sallis, to have a hearing test at the Hearing House. My hearing house audiologist advised me that given the level of deterioration within my hearing, I had four years before I was completely deaf. This came as a real shock and I reluctantly agreed to go on the waiting list for a cochlear implant, assuming the list was so long my name wouldn't come up and I figured I was safe. the way I was coping. I'd not heard very good things about cochlear implants, including it takes a long time to hear properly. You never hear very well, doesn't really work, it's only for children and the odd adult.

In 2020, I got a call from the hearing house to advise that funding was arranged and I had a week to think about it and confirm the operation date or the place would go to someone else. I didn't really want one, but my three daughters convinced me using the strongest of words and leaving me in no doubt that this was going to be a game-changing moment for me and for us as a family. On my switch on day in 2020, my husband Derek was told to stand behind me and say something. He said, "I'll be glad to talk to Annette without having to say pardon." I heard every word and repeated it back. I'll never forget the look on the audiologist's face. That was one of

surprise and joy. Now, I know this doesn't happen to everyone this quickly, but it is my journey. When I got home, the thing that brought me to tears was hearing my six-year-old granddaughter talk in sentences. I hadn't realised that she could talk in sentences. After surgery, I asked the doctor why me and he said I was the most deserving case because of the level of my hearing decline. I had thought it was because my husband had been diagnosed with Louis body dementia and as his carer I would need to be able to pick hear up I'd be able to hear in order to look after him properly. I need to pause for a moment and discuss the effects of the fastmoving Louis body dementia and its impact on how we negotiated the complexities of dealing with GPs, hospitals, specialists, home health, WINZ, lawyers, rest home staff. The list went on and never seemed to end.

Well, it did eventually end in October 2024 when my husband Derek passed away.

I simply don't know how I could have coped without my cochlear implant. Derek's lack of empathy and loss of understanding was not his fault, but caused by this dreadful disease. And as a result of the support and decision making lay heavily on my shoulders to make life-changing decisions for us both, eventually culminating in him having to reside in the dementia unit at West Harbour Gardens for 9 months until he passed away. Many’s the time I'd like to put a jacket on and bring him home, but that would have been irresponsible. This was partly due to the time during the time of Covid and trying to communicate with people wearing masks was just horrendous. I haven't regretted my cochlear implant for a moment, as the old Annette returned.

Then I had to contend with around 80% of my friends instead of being friend pleased for me would say “I don't mean to be mean Annette but you're old and you have a cochlear implant”. Why people don't understand how much cochlear implants help adults as well so many thanks to the hearing house donors, doctors, audiologists and Nigel Sallis from the Hearing Institute in particular clear and government funding. Without that support, I wouldn't be speaking to you from this platform and then speaking to you when we meet for coffee in a crowded café or over my dining room table. I wouldn't have heard my six-year-old daughter speak in grand sentences. And more importantly, I wouldn't have been there when my husband Derek needed me most.

Uh, and a story to finish that I hope might rise a smile. I was lying on a hospital bed awaiting minor investigative surgery with all my senses on high alert. The nurse wearing a mask said your daughter will be taking you home. I thought she said, "Your doctor will be taking you home." I'll add here that the doctor was a very young man, old enough to be my grandson. I said, "The doctor's taking me home. It's very kind, thank you. But my daughter's waiting in the waiting room." The room erupted into laughter. Well, everyone except the young doctor.

I'm beyond grateful to everyone that helped me.

Thank you.