Kris English, PhD

The University of Akron/NOAC

Audiologic counseling is like a two-sided coin: one side attends to patients’ emotional and psychological struggles, and the other side, to their need for clear, relevant, and compelling information. Goleman (1995) would describe these two goals as communicating either with the “feeling mind” or the “thinking mind.” The concept of “being of two minds” is a familiar one, but communicating with a patient’s “thinking mind” (more specifically, our efforts in patient education) hasn’t attracted much attention in audiology.

Patient education can be taken for granted,  but that would be a grave mistake. If not careful, we might apply a range of ineffective practices, such as:

• Using words our patients can’t process;
• Providing more detail than patients can remember;
• Conveying information unrelated to patients’ questions;
• Providing information without helping patients apply it to their lives.

Let’s ponder that last point for a moment. Information designed to “help patients apply it to their lives” elevates patient education to a new level of responsibility. We are not only talking about providing information, but also using information as a vehicle for change.

This concept is relatively new. Falvo (2011) notes that while “many people think of patient education as the transfer of information … the real goal is patient learning, in which patients are not only provided with information, but helped to incorporate it into their daily lives” (p. 21). We are being invited to redefine this process, to evolve from a monologue of information-giving into an interactive framework for change.

The concept of “effective patient education” can be new territory for many audiologists. How do we find our way? This article outlines a suggested checklist to guide us, applying classic teaching/learning principles culled from exemplar patient education materials.

A Checklist for Audiology

Patient education has a familiar starting point: knowledge dissemination.

Knowledge Dissemination. We have much information to share about test results, anatomy, etiologies, genetics, recommendations, treatments. However, as part of effective patient education, this step is just the first of several considerations. Even as we disseminate information, we cannot assume the patient understands us, or will remember what we said accurately. Let’s consult this checklist of concerns:

As we disseminate knowledge:

Does our patient understand us? In addition to the problems with professional jargon, we must remember that when a patient is upset, the amgydala in the brain activates “flight or fight” responses (increased heart and respiration rates, etc.). While in this state, the frontal cortex (the center for analysis and reasoning) is inaccessible. We might be talking to a brain that, for the time being, cannot learn. How to test for understanding? The easiest way is to ask: “Would you like a detailed explanation, or a big-picture summary? Do you prefer information conveyed verbally, or in writing, or both?” And later, “To be sure we are on the same page: could you share with me your understanding of the situation?” Asking the patient to repeat what they understand is called the “teach-back method” (Agency for Healthcare Research and Quality, 2010). Continue reading →

Kris English, PhD

The University of Akron/NOAC

Whether we scan our bookshelves, review our folders, or – more likely – enter keywords in a search engine, we are likely to find the terms “family” and “hearing loss” almost exclusively associated with children and their parents. Interestingly, apart from a few exceptions (e.g., the National Council on Aging), adult patients with hearing loss are not immediately linked to the context of family. We have valuable information on the role of our adult patients’ communication partners (e.g., Preminger & Lind, 2012), but it seems important to point out that family means far more than communication. Historically, family has also meant moral, financial, and logistical support, a feeling of belonging.

Perhaps audiology has paid little attention to what it means to serve adult patients in a family context because we assume it is a “given.” However, some recent research indicates we should give this topic deeper consideration, and not take our practices for granted.

By “Family,” We Mean …

Families are universal in all cultures, but definitions vary widely. A simple, popular, and inclusive definition is “two or more people who consider and define themselves as a family.” Another inclusive definition is “any group of intimates with a history and a future” (Ransom & Vandervoort, 1973). Biological and legal ties are traditional but not required. It is likely all readers know of someone who was “adopted” as a cousin or aunt or brother because of long-standing involvement and support that transcended simple friendship. To be “considered family” when not actually related is usually accepted as a high honor.

How Families Function Continue reading →

Giri Sundar, MPhil/PhD

Osborne College of Audiology Director, Distance Education

Salus University

As a clinical audiologist for over 25 years, I have encountered numerous people with hearing loss, only to conclude that this is not a homogeneous group. What differentiates each patient is his or her unique story; fortunately for us, if we allow the story to unfold, we will learn how to help. Here is an example:

One of my patients described a get-together in the family. He has three children and five grandchildren. They had all arrived from different parts of the northeast, and he had not seen them together in some time. Once the entire clan was in the dining room, everything (chairs, cutlery, plates, people, mouths) was in constant motion. The dining table was the only thing that did not move.

My patient’s eyes could not quite keep up with the pace of activity; dependent on the visible word, his social encounters were manageable when limited to roomful of one or two people, and he’d developed his own strategies to cope with his hearing loss in simple listening conditions. But too many people in one room with the scattered sources of sounds left him unnerved.

Sounds blended together in a din and he retreated into the sanctuary of his study, leaving his dinner unfinished. He could not tolerate the blurring of words; he could not participate or even spectate. The very people he loved seemed insufferable and tiresome. His retreat, however, was misconstrued by his grown children and created quite a bit of tension in the following days. His wife’s observation of the possibility of hearing loss being at the root of this behavior allowed the rest of the family member to somewhat understand this gentleman, and upon his daughter’s insistence he decided to seek some help.

He was quite forthright when I asked him what made him see an audiologist at this particular time. Although in the beginning he only wanted a hearing test, routine questions regarding his communication difficulties brought his real story: he felt an alienation from his family.

He often had to imagine what they might be saying. “No one wants to listen or take the time to listen. Going out with people you comfortably socialized with has become something of an ordeal…it is claustrophobic; when you are in the middle of a group of people and cannot participate in the conversation, it is as though the people around you suffocate you. You know what I mean?”

I asked him if he wanted hearing aids. He did not: he only wanted to know if he had bad hearing loss. The answer told me my patient did not yet realize himself that the issue was his hearing problem (unique to him and his life), not his hearing loss. Because I understood his story, I could help him make the connection between his hearing loss and the alienation that had been hurting him so much.

Kris English, PhD

The University of Akron

From 1999-2009, I had the opportunity to teach an online course in counseling for audiologists earning an AuD through the Central Michigan University/Bill Wilkerson Center Vanderbilt University distance education program. It will seem hard to believe now, but when the AuD program started, many enrollees had little experience with email, so to get the ball rolling, the first assignment was to complete the Keirsey temperament questionnaire and email me the results (Rational, Artisan, Idealist, or Guardian).  My two goals were to jump-start the “know thyself” process and to help students become familiar with my email address.  I wasn’t looking for any trends, but … take a look (updated January 2018):

Ten years and 25 semesters later, with results from 390 audiologists (all with MA degrees and an average of 15 years experience), the summative data show a very strong tendency toward Guardian temperaments (82% in the middle bar, compared to 40% in the general population on the left). Since then, I have posed the same assignment to AuD graduate students (another 10-year project from 2008 to 2018, right hand bar), and have also frequently asked attendees at workshops to spend 10 minutes on this exercise, with very similar results. For instance, among 27 practitioners in a recent workshop, our results were 0% Rationals, 18% Artisans, 15% Idealists, and 67% Guardians.

“Knowing Thyself” Stimulated Change   Continue reading →

Kris English, PhD

The University of Akron/NOAC

Recently, a friend described how her grown son currently chooses to be homeless. She doesn’t know how to find him, and doesn’t know how he manages. Needless to say, she is worried sick. Looking back, she now recognizes the early signs of mental health problems during his teen years, but at the time, she didn’t recognize them as such. After all, it’s not unusual for teens to be rebellious, non-communicative, disorganized, or moody. As any parent would, she applied what she knew in general about adolescence to make sense of her son’s decisions and actions; only when her explanations no longer made sense (this is not how teens typically act) did she feel ready to consider broader, more complicated explanations and seek help. The diagnosis of mental health problems was a first step toward making sense of a profoundly unfamiliar situation.

Most adults approach life’s uncertainties in the same way: we experience something we don’t fully understand and start by working through “what we know.” Our car makes a funny noise so we look under the hood. We notice a new ache or pain, and make changes in our diet or environment (maybe more exercise?). Our computer freezes so we turn it off, count to ten, and turn it back on. In doing so, we are applying the sensemaking process, which helps us understand a change or shift in our world. If that process fails us, we consider taking the next step of asking someone for help.

Although much of audiologic counseling focuses on emotional and psychological reactions to hearing loss, our patients of course are also decision-making individuals whose minds seek logic, facts, and answers that make sense. Here we will consider how the sensemaking process applies to our patients as they ask for our help.

It Might Look Like Denial

Sensemaking in health literature is often applied to the diagnosis of a life-altering disease or disability (e.g., Pakenham, 2008), as in “why is this happening to me?” and “what will become of me?” Acquired hearing loss is certainly a life-altering condition, and both patients and audiologists attempt to make sense of it. We understand our role: in our initial encounter with a new patient, we begin with the query, “What brings you here today?” to help us understand the patient’s concerns, and then we test. However, we may not understand that the patient is also striving to make sense of this appointment. For many patients, a gradual hearing loss does not yet make sense, as reflected in these remarks:

• My family says I can’t hear them – but that can’t be true because I definitely hear them complain!
• People speak too fast these days.
• It’s not my hearing, it’s the background music on TV that’s the problem.
• How can anyone be expected to hear in such noisy restaurants? They used to be quieter.

Gill et al. (2010) describe these types of comments as “candidate explanations,” offered to convey a patient’s efforts to make sense of the situation. However, we may be inclined to interpret these comments as denial (or stubborness, embarrassment, suspicion) instead of reasonable efforts to understand a problem based on what the patient currently knows: that one’s hearing seems to be generally adequate.

What patients don’t yet know is their actual hearing status. How we go about informing them can support the sensemaking process.

Do We Inadvertently Impede the Sensemaking Process?

 Knowing that many patients are trying to make sense of our time together, we have to ask ourselves if we help or hinder that process. Consider the information that we collect but do not share with patients until our testing is done:

• During pure tone tests, patients have no idea of the intensity required to define their thresholds. Whether it was 20 or 70dB, as far as they know, it was soft and therefore assumed to be “good” hearing.
• During word recognition tests, patients receive no feedback about the words they misheard, and are often shocked to be told they missed any at all.
• During speech-in-noise tests, patients recognize at some point that the noise is a problem, but they don’t know that their abilities may be far from normal.

Their hearing concerns now make sense to us, but so far the patient has been kept in the dark. When we do convey test results, we must understand why some patients will still be skeptical, challenging, or confused. Our summary can be quite inconsistent with what makes sense to them (that they can hear fairly well). Can we do better?

Sensemaking as a Social Process Continue reading →

Devon Weist, AuD

Audiology Clinical Instructor, Externship Coordinator

The University of South Florida

As 2014 comes to a close, I find myself a little overwhelmed with the holiday bustle and those pesky year-end tasks we tend to put off until the last moment.  This past week, I woke up one morning with the intention of getting to my office early to finish grading exams and papers from my third year AuD students. I was anxious to get this task completed because I knew I had a full clinic schedule the following day. As I just finished grading my first couple exams, another clinical instructor popped into my office holding a very sad looking ITE aid.

The Best-Laid Plans

She explained that an older gentleman had just shown up at the front desk. He mentioned coming to our clinic in the past and appeared to not only be having difficulty hearing, but also seeing.  He thankfully was with his teenage grandson, but was clearly struggling with both senses we often take for granted.  He told my colleague he had broken off the switch and couldn’t turn the hearing aid on.

My colleague normally works with cochlear implants, so she wanted to make sure she wasn’t missing anything during her troubleshooting.  She and I checked the aid and discovered it was an old analog, trim pot hearing aid.  The brand and serial number were not legible, likely from years of use.

We also discovered this gentleman had not been into the clinic since 2000, so we no longer had his records.  We both grumbled to each other about the patient waiting until a few days before the Christmas holiday to seek help.  She then met with the older man and told him that due to the age of the hearing aid, it was unlikely it could be repaired and if it could, the cost would be significant due to the age.

He then began to tell her he would have to save up little by little to make the repair costs, and it would likely take him a great deal of time to save for a new hearing aid. As the conversation progressed my instincts and looming paperwork made me think at this point we couldn’t do anything further and could schedule him for an appointment after the holidays to discuss financing and options.

Suddenly a Solution

Just as it looked like he would be returning after the holidays, our audiology assistant reminded us of a donated hearing aid we had in the cabinet.   A few weeks back, the family of a patient who had recently passed away sent us the aid and a note asking to please donate the aid to someone in need.  My grinch-like tendencies quickly remembered the reason and responsibility we have to those who seek our services.

In short, we were able to fit the patient with a much newer, higher quality working hearing aid.  We also learned during the time we spent testing his hearing that his wife had passed away several months ago, his daughter and grandson recently began living with him, and he was battling the effects of diabetes which include the deterioration of his vision.  He was able to set up a payment plan for a new earmold and office visit fees, but more importantly left the clinic hearing, smiling, and for the first time in a long while able to carry on a conversation with his grandson.

While this unexpected patient didn’t allow me to finish those grades like I had planned, he fortuitously reminded me of the value we serve to patients each and every day.  We each take an oath when we receive our white coats that states, “I will act to the benefit of those needing care, striving to see that none go untreated.” (Steiger, Saccone, & Freeman, 2002).  If we had told the patient to come back after the holidays, we wouldn’t really have honored this oath.

This Year and Every Year

Our profession has long realized that the patient’s encounter is the centerpiece for patient-centered care (American Academy of Audiology, 2004). Patient-centered care is not about making a sale or fitting patients into a neat and tidy schedule.  It means making a commitment to serving your patients’ needs even when they don’t have a “scheduled” appointment.

Experiencing the emotional joy that occurs when a patient is given the ability to hear is one of the main reasons we as audiologists love our profession.  It is also equally fulfilling to see family members’ emotional joy when they are able to re-connect with a loved one who can now hear.  Seeing this gentleman and his grandson have a conversation together and the smile on both their faces more than makes up for spending an extra hour in my office grading papers.  It is important to remember that every patient has a story and a journey in regards to their hearing loss, and we as audiologists have a responsibility to provide them care that is patient-centered, no matter what day of the year it is!

References

American Academy of Audiology.  (2004).  Audiology: Scope of practice.  Available at  www.audiology.org/resources/documentlibrary/Pages/ScopeofPractice.aspx

Steiger J., Saccone P., & Freeman B. (2002).  A proposed doctoral oath for audiologists.  Audiology Today, 12(5), 12-14.