"What is an Odd-iologist?"

We took our boys in on Friday to get their hearing tested. William is behind in his speech and I know the first thing the pediatrician should do is ask about his hearing, so we decided to beat him to it. Matthew passed his newborn hearing screening in his left ear, but "referred" (AKA failed) for his right ear, so we needed to follow up on his hearing as well. This visit to the "doctor," also known as "going to Daddy's work" got me thinking about the many conversations I have had with people regarding my husband's occupation. About 90% of the time, the conversation goes like this:

"What does your husband do?"
Me: "He's an audiologist."
"What?"

It's a highly intelligent exchange, but the problem at this point in the conversation is that I don't know if the other person is attempting comic relief and feigning hearing loss or if they truly do not know what an audiologist is (since they all give the same response and it's about split both ways). Now I am stuck in a bit of a dilemma. If this person is sincerely requesting clarification I would love to provide it, but if they are making a sad attempt at humor I should respond with a fake chuckle at the very least (although I usually can't help but roll my eyes). I did offend someone when I asked if they really don't know what it is--like I was insulting their intelligence. Because of this, I have decided to provide clarification whether the person was trying to be funny or not and then the "funny" people have to tell me that it was a joke and I have to pretend like I haven't heard that one before.

I prefer the conversation that begins with the location of the workplace.
"Where does your husband work?"
Me: "He works for the Elks Hearing and Balance Centers"
"What does he do there?"
Here we go again. Now I am back to the problem I had before, so I decide to go a different route (most people understand the word "doctor," right?).
Me: "He is a doctor of audiology."
"A doctor of WHAT?"
So at least we have established the "doctor" part, so we are headed in the right direction.
Me: "Ears! He's an EAR DOCTOR--he does hearing and balance!"
Hence, his place of employment at a hearing and balance center.
"Oh, I thought you said "ODD-iology" like he actually studied being ODD!! HAHAHA!"
Hmm...that's funny. Here comes the fake chuckle again!
Me: "No, AUDIO...as in sound?!?"

Now I have (hopefully) been partially successful at avoiding the rolling of my eyes, have possibly even provided a decent chuckle, and we have established his occupation.

"So he works with old people."
Me: "Actually, he helps newborns and children, too."
"How do you test a newborn? Don't they have to sit with headphones on and raise their hand?"
Me: "No, they actually hook electrodes up to the baby and test whether signals are conducted through the bones in their head."
"What?"
Me: "And when he tests young children they train them to look at a box with a toy in it, which lights up when the tone is presented...just like Pavlov's dogs. Or they do play audiometry where the child throws a toy in a bucket when they hear the sound (or Paul likes to have them listen for the 'butterflies')."
"What?"
Me: "If you keep asking 'what?' I may have to refer you to my favorite audiologist. He is quite excellent."

Since so many people are fascinated by the idea of testing a newborn's hearing by hooking electrodes to their head, we took our camera with us. This is what a newborn hearing test looks like (Matthew is 2 weeks old). The test is called an ABR (Auditory Brainstem Response) and the baby has to be asleep for the test or it doesn't work. My job was to bring him tired and hungry and, after getting the electrodes hooked up (that's the hard part especially since he is tired and hungry), getting him to sleep so he wouldn't move. I'd like to report that I did an excellent job on my part of the testing! :)
And, in case you'd like to know...both of his ears work great!