Last night, just before I drifted off to sleep, I had a sudden thought: Isn’t it nearly time to renew my driver’s licence? I last did it during COVID in 2020.

Oh no.

My stomach tightened at the memory because I can still remember exactly how it went the last time.

In South Africa, we renew our driver’s licences every five years. It sounds simple enough: fill out a form, do an eye test, pay the fee, and wait six weeks to collect. Yet every South African dreads it.

Why?

Because the licensing departments are notoriously unpleasant. Staff are often dismissive, rude, and anything but service-oriented.

And during the COVID-19 pandemic, things were even worse.

I had to book an appointment due to the limited number of people allowed per area. The only available slot was in Vereeniging—almost an hour from Alberton.

My husband came with me, mainly for safety. These offices are often in isolated industrial areas, and walking in alone didn’t feel safe. But I never imagined that day would become my most traumatic hearing loss experience ever—and that my husband would become my lifeline.

When we arrived, they initially refused to let him in.

Luckily, after we explained that I have hearing loss and need his help to communicate, they allowed it.

We joined the line outside, queuing in the full South African summer sun—it was December, and the heat was brutal. My husband offered to stand in line while I waited in the shade. Not just to prevent sunburn, but because we’d learned during the COVID vaccine queue that standing too long makes my blood pressure drop.

Eventually, we made it inside. But the building was hot, crowded, and loud. There were no signs. No visual guidance. No clue what to do next.

When I finally reached the front, I handed over my completed form—hoping that would speed things up. But I couldn’t hear a word. The staff were masked, the speech was muffled, and the background noise was overwhelming.

Even my husband struggled to understand.

We asked them to repeat what they said, but that was met with eye rolls and irritation. Eventually, we worked out that we had to leave the building again and wait at another door.

We were being shuffled around like cattle.

No guidance. No communication. No care.

I somehow managed to complete the eye test and hand over my documentation, but then I panicked. I didn’t know what was happening. I didn’t know where to go. And my documents were no longer with me. I was terrified that I’d have to come back and go through it all again.

Eventually, they called my name and told me to go and pay.

It had taken three hours.

By then, we were exhausted. My husband stopped at a nearby garage just so we could use a bathroom, because the facilities at the licensing office were filthy. I honestly can’t imagine the last time they’d been cleaned.

And the worst part? I still had to go back six weeks later to collect the card.

I grew up with hearing loss in a hearing world. I attended mainstream schools and colleges. I worked in construction for 17 years, without special accommodations. I’ve learned to cope.

But that day, I felt degraded. Helpless. Totally out of control.

If my husband hadn’t been there, I would’ve walked out without finishing the process. Because there were no accommodations for hearing loss. None.

Who, then, had the disability that day?
Me—doing my best to cope and communicate in a chaotic, unwelcoming space?
Or the staff, whose bad attitudes made human connection impossible?

Unfortunately, this is normal at licensing departments in South Africa. It’s why so many of us dread having to renew anything. You’re made to feel like a problem just for needing clarity.

Maybe, just maybe, the real disability that day wasn’t mine at all.

This morning, the first thing I did was check my licence expiry date—and sighed with relief.

I had forgotten that I only renewed it in 2021.

So, I still have a year’s grace.

But I’m already dreading the next round.

Dear reader,
Do you have a traumatic hearing loss experience to share?
Or a moment where you were left completely alone in a system that didn’t even try to see you?

I’d love to hear it.

Ready to explore more?
Silent Courage: An Introvert’s Authentic Journey with Hearing Loss is more than a book—it’s a quiet revolution of strength, faith, and resilience.

👉 Grab your copy here and take the next step on your journey of courage.

Nancy settles in her favourite chair with her Japanese Chin dog, Daisy, on her lap. The heat of her coffee seeps through the mug, warming her hands. She loves these few quiet moments after a hard day at work, focusing her senses on everything around her.

She looks at her garden, seeing the tell-tale signs of spring in the green shoots of the trees and the budding of the flowers. She looks forward to summer when she can go and sit in her favourite corner of her garden again.

As she takes a small sip of her coffee, the sharp whistle of her hearing aid makes Daisy open one eye but soon resumes her slumber when she recognises the sound.

Nancy has just silenced the whistling sound when her cell phone ringing shatters this peaceful moment. It was her husband, Max.

“Hi, Love. Sorry to do this to you, but I had to invite a few clients to supper.”

“When?” asks Nancy, feeling the tension in her shoulders.

“Tonight. I know it doesn’t give you time to cook, so I’ll order takeaways from that lovely Chinese restaurant we’ve been to for your birthday.”

Nancy closes her eyes in frustration, her thoughts a jumble. There goes the quiet evening she desperately needs after a day of intense research and feedback meetings!

“Max, you can’t do this to me.” Nancy feels an anxious knot forming in her stomach. “You know how I struggle with dinner conversations. And this invitation is all about creating a good impression with your clients. What if I embarrass you like the last time...”

“Sorry, Nancy. It can’t be helped,” said Max, abruptly ending the call.

Nancy was still taking deep breaths to settle herself when a ping on her phone showed a message from Max.

Hi Nancy. I’m bringing three people, and we’ll be there at seven.

Nancy takes a step back and looks at the hastily laid table. “Not bad,’ she said to herself as she adjusted the last serviette, grateful for this soothing activity, calming her nerves slightly.

“I hope I won’t embarrass Max again,” she whispers, fatigue clinging to her like a heavy cloak. Sensing Nancy’s anxiety, Daisy lightly touches her with her wet nose to comfort her human.

The shrill ringing of the doorbell shatters the quiet. Nancy rushed to the door to take care of the food delivery. Soon, she has all the food transferred to her beautiful porcelain dishes - inherited from her granny Macy- and put in the warming drawer.

“Honey, I’m home,” comes Max’s familiar greeting as he walks through the front door. After a few calming breaths, Nancy slowly walks out of the kitchen to greet Max and their guests.

During dinner, Nancy struggles to follow the conversation with all the business jargon they throw around. While fidgeting with her napkin, she feels the weight and warmth of Daisy’s little body on her feet, helping to keep her grounded.

The aromatic scents of the Chinese herbs fill the air, while the gentle clatter of cutlery is enough to drown out too many words for Nancy to follow along. She felt her heart racing and rubbed her sweaty palms against her pants.

“Focus, Nancy.” She tries remembering the techniques she’s learned from the Better Hearing group.” But she feels so overwhelmed. There are so many strange words she can’t catch, and she can’t keep up with who is talking...

Nancy glances at Lucille, intently listening to Max expanding on his business idea. Her long blond hair, flawless skin, and ice-blue eyes make her look like an ice queen, thinks Nancy. Recognising the hint of jealousy, Nancy re-focuses on Max’s face, trying to read his lips.

She barely registers Lucille, saying: “This is such a lovely spread! You two really know how to host!”

Nancy sighs inwardly. What is it with people thinking that having kids is the only purpose of marriage? It’s only been two years; it’s way too early to become parents.

“Oh, we are not ready to become parents yet! Max is still building his business, and I love working as a research assistant at the university.”

When Nancy noticed the puzzled look on Lucille’s face and the awkward silence, she knew she had done it again. Hearing wrong and responding inappropriately with friends are often funny, but with Max’s clients! She felt the heat rising into her cheeks and wondered if she had just cost Max a crucial contract!

Sensing the tension, Daisy gave a soft bark from under the table. As if on cue, Max, sensitive to his wife’s humiliation, quickly jumped in to save the moment. “Say, Lucille, just tell me again what you ...” with a sidelong glance at his wife.

The conversation fades into the background as Nancy retreats into herself, feeling somehow diminished and unworthy because of her hearing loss. Not even Daisy’s soft licking of her skin gets through to her in this moment of intense shame.

“Bye Lucille, Jeffrey, Tom. Thanks for coming over.” After softly closing the front door, Max barely makes any noise as he walks into the kitchen, where Nancy is busy cleaning up. Even though he can’t see her face, he can picture the tears rolling down her cheeks.

For a moment, he struggles with his conflicting emotions. Losing a possible contract is so frustrating! But compassion and empathy well up in him when he thinks of his wife’s struggles to hear, which cause embarrassing situations he knows she can’t control.

He reaches out and tugs softly on her shoulder, feeling her resistance and shying away from him.

But as she relents, he pulls her close against him, softly stroking her hair.

“It’s OK, Nancy,” he says, his voice cracking with a hint of frustration.

He feels her tears dampening his shirt. He can barely hear her muffled response.

“You need a better wife. Someone who doesn’t....”

Slowly, he moves away and lifts her chin with his finger.

“No, Nancy,” he says as he tenderly looks down on her beautiful face, green eyes brimming with tears.

“You are the perfect wife for me. You know I love you, regardless of your hearing loss. You are the one that matters most to me. If anyone takes issue with it, they shouldn’t be in our life’s anyway!”

“But the contract...” Nancy’s voice falters.

“There will be other clients and other contracts. I only have one Nancy...”

Daisy gives a contented sigh as Nancy melts into Max’s arms. All is well again in the Watson house.

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