Dreams in motion: Kevin’s story

In my early years, Mom and Dad couldn't really understand why I had communication issues. But when I was around 10 years old, my math teacher suggested I get my hearing checked because he had noticed that I did better in class when he was talking in front of me, rather than behind. After some tests, the audiologist just said, “Kevin, what have you been doing for the past 10 years?” I found out that I only had 25% hearing capacity. Up until then, I had been looking at people's lips because I thought that was the way we all lived.

It was a tough age to get hearing aids, but it was my reality, and I had to deal with it. I let my hair grow long because I didn't want people to stare. I was also uncomfortable because I had a speech impediment. I could have learned sign language but chose to go the route of lip-reading and six years of speech therapy. In middle school through high school, sometimes kids would say, “Here comes that deaf and dumb guy.” But when the teachers were talking behind a glass wall, I could interpret everything they said and tell all the kids in the class. And when I went out in high school, friends wanted me to tell them what that guy or girl was talking about. People thought that was kind of cool. So lip-reading could be a lot of fun, and I turned it into a very powerful talent.

I was in my twenties when I started gradually losing my vision, first at night. This was at a time when I was a real workaholic, putting in long hours and long commutes at night. The only way I could get home was by keeping my eyes on the yellow line in front of me for the whole 50-kilometer drive. When I was a bit older, I realized that I couldn't really see that yellow line if it was raining or snowing. I’d just get behind an 18-wheeler and follow those bright lights on the back of the truck all the way home. I thought it was part of aging, and that I just needed to adapt. But when I was about 30, I was organizing a Christmas party at a local bar and knocked over some beer bottles. This big guy came up and said, “What's wrong with you?” That’s when I went to the ophthalmologist.

Even now, I can still remember the moment when the doctor said that he had to do something very hard: take away my driver’s license and my right to work those jobs. I told him I was planning to retire in just two more years, but he said he had to do it because of the law. It was a really dark year for me and a scary time in my life. But eventually, with help, I realized that I didn't want to sit around and feel sorry for myself. I wanted to have the flexibility to try new things, which is how I got into blind sports.  

Now imagine doing any of the sports or activities you like to do, and how difficult it would be if you had limited hearing and limited vision. What you have to understand is that I couldn’t have done any of it without Phonak. When I started speed skating, my coach wore the Phonak FM system while I wore my hearing aids. I’d be going down the track, and he would be counting off my strides for me. When I got to the corner, he would say, “Three, two, one… attack!” That’s how it worked. And my coach would have to tell me which lap I was on since I couldn’t see the numbers. It was fascinating, traveling down the track at about 56 kilometers an hour, not being able to see where I was going, and having to trust my coach. A few times I flew off because of miscommunication, but that's the reality of having a dual disability!

I started competing against able-bodied speed skaters – and winning. In the end, I won 80 medals against able-bodied speed skaters from all over the world. With nine world records for short and long track in blind speed skating, I went from 25th up to 8th in the world against able-bodied skaters – and I’m still number one in the world among blind speed skaters. I was able to push through the barrier in other sports, too, just like my coaches, who had to learn to think differently because they were dealing with somebody who had two disabilities.

More recently, I got into blind golf. The only thing I can see is the ball on the tee. When I hit the ball, my coach tells me where it goes. We go down the fairway, and then the coach kind of reads the green for me since I can't see the hole. Right now, I'm the number two blind golfer in Canada and seventh in the world. I’ve been invited to represent Canada at the International Blind Golfing Championship, which takes place in Spain this May.

You’re not going to find too many deafblind athletes in the world competing at such a high level. But all this came with hard work, adaptability and helping other people. My parents said, “Always give,” because it always comes back. This is why I want to help as many deaf, blind people I can because I know the barriers. I’ve learned that I can use my disabilities to inspire people at the highest level because I know the hurdles. I’ve been a philanthropist for decades now, organizing and volunteering for missions that have helped 29 children around the world hear again with new hearing aids.

I’m probably one of the most positive people you'll ever meet, just because that’s who I am. I think it’s important to fail faster forward, learn from mistakes, get over it, move on and move forward. As for me, it’s possible that I’ll eventually lose 100% of my vision and have to think about what that means for my other disability. This could mean getting a cochlear implant. But I’ve learned how important it is to be adaptable and stay open-minded. That’s how I’ve been able to do what I’ve done with only three senses – and that’s what keeps me going.

Kevin wears Phonak Naída^™ Paradise hearing aids.