Goody Good Good.

Me and some of my volunteer
peeps from my clinic days

The Lighthouse basically restores my faith in humanity on a weekly basis. It's not actually that dramatic - I've pretty much always believed that people are good and want to do good but sometimes act like little shits. But working at the LH really does give me almost daily reminders about the best in humanity. I might still be in the honeymoon phase of this place, but I don't think so. I've been here over a year and I actually started out hating it. Most job satisfaction statistics follow along a bell curve: I love my job! --> I hate my job! --> I accept there are things about my job I love and hate. My job satisfaction curve went: hate, what the hell is this, not so much hate, there are some good things here, maybe I want to stay, I like my job. All the while knowing that there are things I love and don't love about what I do. Love? Patients. Coworkers. Potlucks. Hate? Patients, politics, and outcome measurements.

But this is who I see:

Audiologists. Not all of them are great. Some are really snooty and think they deliver gold-plated audiograms. But most are like Suzanne. She is one of our metro Atlanta audiologists and works with this patient who apparently perspires heavily (and that ruins the patient's aids). Suzanne has seen this woman for years and replaces parts and cleans and adjusts her aids for free whenever she needs it. The problem is the sweat (yeah, there are also really gross parts to my job. Like sweat and ear wax and old donated hearing aids). And so she calls to ask if there is any more permanent solution for this woman. So I call the manufacturer and ask and put those two in touch and Suzanne helps this woman a little bit more. And then there are the audiologists (and hearing dispensers) who call on behalf of their patients to check statuses, to coordinate application pieces and payment requests, who coordinate translators and open up their practice one more day each week to see LH patients, who put up with really difficult people for who knows why. Maybe it's because they have a contract. But they don't really get paid so maybe it's because they've committed to the LH. But they can break their contract whenever they want so...maybe it's because they actually care. And even if they don't, they are still helping.

Patients. Some are bitchy little snits, but the majority are just good people who need help paying for ridiculously marked up products. The thank you cards and notes from these patients make me want to cry, not out of sentimentality but because this dear man or woman has gotten back that part of his/her life again. Even on the vision side of things. One came back in yesterday with her husband (her name is Shontae - and that's not a HIPAA violation because I have no idea how to spell her name and probably have it incorrect). I ran downstairs when I heard she was here and got huge hugs and smiles and we got to catch up. She's working part time now (she was applying for jobs when we first met) and her husband, who was severely burned in an accident, is doing so much better now. That's the ultimate goal for all of this - increased independence and quality of life. And then there are my deaf oldies who call and just need someone to be on their side through all of this confusing process. I actually like to get the bitchy ones on the phone because it helps even out the sweetness of the other 92%.

Patient families. Some are terrible and won't help their family member, either by providing information or helping fill out the application. And some are freaking annoying and think their family member is the only person in Georgia (and probably the world) who is on a fixed income and needs help. But some are the best advocates for their mom or dad or aunt or uncle or grandparent that I've ever seen. When they get annoying with their persistent phone calls, I try to remember that they are doing it because they love their person. I hope I will be just as annoying for the people I love. I hope someone will be just as annoying for me.