Miss-Delectable
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Inside Bay Area - Opening Up a World of Sound
When 1-year-old Gregory Moeller heard sound for the first time last month, he furrowed his blond eyebrows in puzzlement. Then he made a series of babbling sounds.
``He's hearing something,'' said Annie Vranesic, a pediatric audiologist at the Let Them Hear Foundation in East Palo Alto.
Two weeks earlier, Gregory had received cochlear implants, sophisticated devices enabling the deaf boy to hear the same sounds as everyone else, albeit in a different tone. During this visit, Vranesic turned on one of the surgically implanted devices.
For the first time, Gregory could clearly hear his parents' voices. He also turned his head toward the wooden block Vranesic loudly smacked on her desk to test his hearing, and soon after he uttered a burst of babble.
As of Jan. 1, even more children like Gregory will get the intensive services designed to give them the best start in life. That day, a new law takes effect requiring that all California hospitals with delivery services test newborns' ability to hear.
Currently, California is one of the 19 states without universal hearing screening programs. Although about three-quarters of the state's birthing hospitals began offering a state-mandated program after its launch in 2000, the rest were exempted by state rules linked to reimbursement.
That means that each year, more than one-quarter, or about 130,000, of the state's newborns have been receiving either inadequate hearing screening or none at all, said Dr. Hallie Morrow, medical consultant with the state's Newborn Hearing Screening program.
With roughly two of every 1,000 infants in California born deaf or with severe hearing loss, up to 260 newborns who urgently need swift hearing treatment to develop their communications skills are lost to the system each year.
``In terms of the percentage of babies that are screened, we are definitely lagging behind other states,'' Morrow said.
Morrow said she expects the universal screening program to be fully implemented by the end of 2008.
The `invisible' impairment
Undetected hearing loss deprives parents of a crucial window of opportunity to develop an infant's auditory system, Morrow said, since it's hard to spot in infants. ``(Hearing impairment) is invisible. You won't know until they start to exhibit developmental delay,'' she explained.
``What we're finding is those first six months are really crucial,'' Morrow said. ``You have to lay down the neural pathway (related to hearing) in the brain.''
When infants born deaf or with profound hearing loss are quickly treated, ``they have the potential to have the same language skills as normal kids,'' she said.
At the extreme, if several years pass without treatment, even a deaf child's capacity to understand the meaning of sound is lost, making cochlear implants futile, added Dr. Joseph Roberson, founder of the Let Them Hear Foundation. ``They would hear sounds, but their brains can't make sense of it,'' he said
But Gregory, the 1-year-old with the new implants, was born in a hospital offering the test, and it showed something was amiss. Less than a month after his birth on Oct. 18, 2006, his parents, Michelle Moeller, 36, and her husband, Kurt, 37, received confirmation their boy had a genetic form of hearing loss. Both parents hear normally, but each carries a recessive gene that causes deafness if a child inherits both. Their 2-year-old son also hears normally.
While coping with their grief and visiting scores of doctors, the San Francisco couple learned of the Let Them Hear Foundation.
Four days after Gregory's first birthday, the first date his insurer would authorize the procedure, Roberson, the ear surgeon, placed a cochlear implant in each of Gregory's ears in an operating room at Stanford Hospital. A few weeks later, Vranesic, the audiologist, turned on a world of sound for the toddler.
Gregory's puzzled face and string of childlike sounds that first day Vranesic activated his implants were typical responses to hearing sounds clearly for the first time, she said.
``They're trying to figure out what's going on,'' Vranesic said. ``Sometimes they start to cry, or they laugh,'' she added.
Getting it right
The state waited until 2008 to roll out universal screening, as those running the hearing screening program wanted to establish an effective system in the hospitals first offering the service. The state began the program in 2000, and it took several years before it was fully functioning.
``Our focus in California has been on developing the system to make sure once they get screened, they make it through the entire process,'' Morrow said. ``We always thought screening was the easy part,'' she added. ``What good is screening if you don't have the follow-up in place?''
Currently, the state closely monitors the treatment of more than 90 percent of newborns with severe hearing loss, Morrow said. Treatment entails a range of options, including visiting audiologists, learning sign language, using hearing aids for children with residual hearing, or installing cochlear implants.
``If they miss an appointment, someone (from the state) calls to find out why,'' Morrow added. In comparison, about one-third of infants nationwide detected with hearing impairment are lost to state-run systems monitoring the children's progress through treatment protocols, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
What even the best screening and follow-up programs can't catch, however, are those who pass the newborn screening and then later lose their hearing, due to genetics, illness or an injury.
When Emerson Henry was born, the Danville youngster, now 6, tested normal for hearing.
But her mother, Megan Henry, 37, said that as Emerson approached her first birthday, Megan and her husband noticed Emerson wasn't babbling, nor was she responding to the playful sounds that caught the attention of her brothers when they were her age.
Additional tests revealed that Emerson could scarcely hear, for reasons her parents and doctors still don't understand. By 18 months, Emerson finally had high-powered hearing aids. At age 4, she received one cochlear implant from the Let Them Hear Foundation's San Ramon clinic, and a second one when she was 5.
``Since she's got the cochlear implants, it's been absolutely amazing,'' Henry said. Emerson has numerous hearing friends, her mother said, and she dreams of becoming a singer.
While Emerson doesn't speak as well as her peers as a result of her delayed treatment, the girl conversed easily over the phone for an interview. When asked about her favorite songs, she cited the Disney movie ``High School Musical,'' featuring a teenage boy and girl, both with a passion for singing.
Cochlear implants use electrodes to provide the ability to simulate sound in those born deaf, or who have lost their hearing. The devices were federally approved for use in adults in 1988 and in 1990 for children. They're surgically placed inside the inner ear, and a magnet embedded under the scalp keeps a microphone attached on the head.
A cochlear implant converts sound into electrical signals, and then transmits the signals to an array of electrodes that directly stimulate the auditory nerve. The procedure is regarded as safe, with few complications, and it costs at least $50,000 per ear.
Most insurers now cover the surgery, to varying degrees. The surgery typically takes two to three hours for each ear, although Roberson said he's done so many, it takes him less than half that time. About 22,000 adults and 15,000 children in the United States have received cochlear implants.
Members of the deaf community, however, have long expressed concerns about characterizations of hearing loss as an abnormality that needs ``fixing'' through hearing devices. The National Association for the Deaf, for example, works to cultivate acceptance of individuals who are deaf or hard of hearing as intelligent, productive citizens capable of creating successful lives, with or without hearing aids or cochlear implants.
The association notes that cochlear implants are ``not appropriate for all deaf and hard-of-hearing children and adults,'' and encourages research on all the options available for cultivating communication skills.
Gregory's first request
Two weeks after 1-year-old Gregory received his implants, he spoke his first words, said his mother, Michelle Moeller. ``He said `mo, mo!''' she said _ asking for more of a chicken snack while the family was driving. He now claps and sways to music _ something he never did before.
Moeller is sympathetic to the debate over the use of cochlear implants versus teaching a child sign language.
``We know that every family has to make its own decision,'' she said.
Moeller said she and her husband chose the implants, fearing they'd have to send Gregory to a school for the hearing impaired to give him the best education.
``We want him to be competitive,'' she said. ``Now that he's able to access sound, we can prepare him in our own home, with resources in the Bay Area.''
And at age 36, Moeller said she doubted she'd ever become highly proficient in sign language.
``When he's 17 and having a tough time, or 8 years old and someone is giving him a hard time,'' she said, ``my fear was I wouldn't have been able to communicate as intensely and as passionately with sign language.
``We need speech,'' she continued, ``to develop a close relationship with Gregory.''
For the National Association of the Deaf's position regarding cochlear implants, visit Position Statement - National Association of the Deaf.
*smh* Sounds like the mother's justifying her laziness to learn ASL. Any age can learn sign language. Take my mother, for example, she learned sign language in her 40's. And she's understood by deaf people when they meet her.
When 1-year-old Gregory Moeller heard sound for the first time last month, he furrowed his blond eyebrows in puzzlement. Then he made a series of babbling sounds.
``He's hearing something,'' said Annie Vranesic, a pediatric audiologist at the Let Them Hear Foundation in East Palo Alto.
Two weeks earlier, Gregory had received cochlear implants, sophisticated devices enabling the deaf boy to hear the same sounds as everyone else, albeit in a different tone. During this visit, Vranesic turned on one of the surgically implanted devices.
For the first time, Gregory could clearly hear his parents' voices. He also turned his head toward the wooden block Vranesic loudly smacked on her desk to test his hearing, and soon after he uttered a burst of babble.
As of Jan. 1, even more children like Gregory will get the intensive services designed to give them the best start in life. That day, a new law takes effect requiring that all California hospitals with delivery services test newborns' ability to hear.
Currently, California is one of the 19 states without universal hearing screening programs. Although about three-quarters of the state's birthing hospitals began offering a state-mandated program after its launch in 2000, the rest were exempted by state rules linked to reimbursement.
That means that each year, more than one-quarter, or about 130,000, of the state's newborns have been receiving either inadequate hearing screening or none at all, said Dr. Hallie Morrow, medical consultant with the state's Newborn Hearing Screening program.
With roughly two of every 1,000 infants in California born deaf or with severe hearing loss, up to 260 newborns who urgently need swift hearing treatment to develop their communications skills are lost to the system each year.
``In terms of the percentage of babies that are screened, we are definitely lagging behind other states,'' Morrow said.
Morrow said she expects the universal screening program to be fully implemented by the end of 2008.
The `invisible' impairment
Undetected hearing loss deprives parents of a crucial window of opportunity to develop an infant's auditory system, Morrow said, since it's hard to spot in infants. ``(Hearing impairment) is invisible. You won't know until they start to exhibit developmental delay,'' she explained.
``What we're finding is those first six months are really crucial,'' Morrow said. ``You have to lay down the neural pathway (related to hearing) in the brain.''
When infants born deaf or with profound hearing loss are quickly treated, ``they have the potential to have the same language skills as normal kids,'' she said.
At the extreme, if several years pass without treatment, even a deaf child's capacity to understand the meaning of sound is lost, making cochlear implants futile, added Dr. Joseph Roberson, founder of the Let Them Hear Foundation. ``They would hear sounds, but their brains can't make sense of it,'' he said
But Gregory, the 1-year-old with the new implants, was born in a hospital offering the test, and it showed something was amiss. Less than a month after his birth on Oct. 18, 2006, his parents, Michelle Moeller, 36, and her husband, Kurt, 37, received confirmation their boy had a genetic form of hearing loss. Both parents hear normally, but each carries a recessive gene that causes deafness if a child inherits both. Their 2-year-old son also hears normally.
While coping with their grief and visiting scores of doctors, the San Francisco couple learned of the Let Them Hear Foundation.
Four days after Gregory's first birthday, the first date his insurer would authorize the procedure, Roberson, the ear surgeon, placed a cochlear implant in each of Gregory's ears in an operating room at Stanford Hospital. A few weeks later, Vranesic, the audiologist, turned on a world of sound for the toddler.
Gregory's puzzled face and string of childlike sounds that first day Vranesic activated his implants were typical responses to hearing sounds clearly for the first time, she said.
``They're trying to figure out what's going on,'' Vranesic said. ``Sometimes they start to cry, or they laugh,'' she added.
Getting it right
The state waited until 2008 to roll out universal screening, as those running the hearing screening program wanted to establish an effective system in the hospitals first offering the service. The state began the program in 2000, and it took several years before it was fully functioning.
``Our focus in California has been on developing the system to make sure once they get screened, they make it through the entire process,'' Morrow said. ``We always thought screening was the easy part,'' she added. ``What good is screening if you don't have the follow-up in place?''
Currently, the state closely monitors the treatment of more than 90 percent of newborns with severe hearing loss, Morrow said. Treatment entails a range of options, including visiting audiologists, learning sign language, using hearing aids for children with residual hearing, or installing cochlear implants.
``If they miss an appointment, someone (from the state) calls to find out why,'' Morrow added. In comparison, about one-third of infants nationwide detected with hearing impairment are lost to state-run systems monitoring the children's progress through treatment protocols, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.
What even the best screening and follow-up programs can't catch, however, are those who pass the newborn screening and then later lose their hearing, due to genetics, illness or an injury.
When Emerson Henry was born, the Danville youngster, now 6, tested normal for hearing.
But her mother, Megan Henry, 37, said that as Emerson approached her first birthday, Megan and her husband noticed Emerson wasn't babbling, nor was she responding to the playful sounds that caught the attention of her brothers when they were her age.
Additional tests revealed that Emerson could scarcely hear, for reasons her parents and doctors still don't understand. By 18 months, Emerson finally had high-powered hearing aids. At age 4, she received one cochlear implant from the Let Them Hear Foundation's San Ramon clinic, and a second one when she was 5.
``Since she's got the cochlear implants, it's been absolutely amazing,'' Henry said. Emerson has numerous hearing friends, her mother said, and she dreams of becoming a singer.
While Emerson doesn't speak as well as her peers as a result of her delayed treatment, the girl conversed easily over the phone for an interview. When asked about her favorite songs, she cited the Disney movie ``High School Musical,'' featuring a teenage boy and girl, both with a passion for singing.
Cochlear implants use electrodes to provide the ability to simulate sound in those born deaf, or who have lost their hearing. The devices were federally approved for use in adults in 1988 and in 1990 for children. They're surgically placed inside the inner ear, and a magnet embedded under the scalp keeps a microphone attached on the head.
A cochlear implant converts sound into electrical signals, and then transmits the signals to an array of electrodes that directly stimulate the auditory nerve. The procedure is regarded as safe, with few complications, and it costs at least $50,000 per ear.
Most insurers now cover the surgery, to varying degrees. The surgery typically takes two to three hours for each ear, although Roberson said he's done so many, it takes him less than half that time. About 22,000 adults and 15,000 children in the United States have received cochlear implants.
Members of the deaf community, however, have long expressed concerns about characterizations of hearing loss as an abnormality that needs ``fixing'' through hearing devices. The National Association for the Deaf, for example, works to cultivate acceptance of individuals who are deaf or hard of hearing as intelligent, productive citizens capable of creating successful lives, with or without hearing aids or cochlear implants.
The association notes that cochlear implants are ``not appropriate for all deaf and hard-of-hearing children and adults,'' and encourages research on all the options available for cultivating communication skills.
Gregory's first request
Two weeks after 1-year-old Gregory received his implants, he spoke his first words, said his mother, Michelle Moeller. ``He said `mo, mo!''' she said _ asking for more of a chicken snack while the family was driving. He now claps and sways to music _ something he never did before.
Moeller is sympathetic to the debate over the use of cochlear implants versus teaching a child sign language.
``We know that every family has to make its own decision,'' she said.
Moeller said she and her husband chose the implants, fearing they'd have to send Gregory to a school for the hearing impaired to give him the best education.
``We want him to be competitive,'' she said. ``Now that he's able to access sound, we can prepare him in our own home, with resources in the Bay Area.''
And at age 36, Moeller said she doubted she'd ever become highly proficient in sign language.
``When he's 17 and having a tough time, or 8 years old and someone is giving him a hard time,'' she said, ``my fear was I wouldn't have been able to communicate as intensely and as passionately with sign language.
``We need speech,'' she continued, ``to develop a close relationship with Gregory.''
For the National Association of the Deaf's position regarding cochlear implants, visit Position Statement - National Association of the Deaf.
*smh* Sounds like the mother's justifying her laziness to learn ASL. Any age can learn sign language. Take my mother, for example, she learned sign language in her 40's. And she's understood by deaf people when they meet her.
