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The ability to hear is an amazing gift that most of us are born with. We typically take that gift for granted. . . until we start to lose it. But sometimes a loss is a gain, as my husband and I have discovered this year.
My husband had major hearing loss—I can guarantee the truth of that diagnosis! His was mostly a result of his time in the Navy. Over time, he gave in to my nagging and found out that he was entitled to hearing aids through the Veterans Administration. The V.A. provides the top-of-the-line product, and my husband was delighted with the results.
Then it was his turn to nag me.
When I was tested, I showed “moderate” hearing loss. I don’t think it’s that bad, but I don’t really know what moderate means anyway. Jerry’s doctor was happy to look at my test results (a test which I’d had before he was fitted), and he confirmed that I would benefit from hearing aids. He seemed pretty credible to me. The doctor also gave us some suggestions that would help us hear each other better, with or without hearing aids: whenever possible, look at each other; don’t try to talk when your back is turned; don’t call out from the next room; try to enunciate. I think there were others, too, but now that I’ve got my own hearing aids, I don’t remember them.
The V.A. doctor sent us to a friend of his, and I really loved this guy. First, he was down-to-earth and funny. Second, he also issued me a top set of hearing aids, but he explained that he wasn’t interested in making a fortune; he sold them to us at half price. When I returned to his office to be fitted, I felt like a total klutz trying to get them into my ears, and had to adjust to feeling them in my ears. But that didn’t take long.
The beauty of these hearing aids is that it is nearly effortless to use them. I’ve heard so many people complain that they don’t like their hearing aids, that they don’t work well, that they’ve lost them, that they’re uncomfortable. I think there is a vanity factor, too: who wants to admit they’re old enough for hearing aids?? Although you really can’t see them when I wear them.
But our aids have two great benefits. The first is that the doctor told us there was a way for Jerry to listen to the TV only through his aids, and by removing mine, I heard only silence! Since I like to read in the evening, it’s great! He watches car modification shows and I read Solzhenitsyn; I ignore the TV screen--mostly. He doesn’t leave the TV on very long, and then we can both sit and bask in the silence.
The other benefit that I love is that I can listen to podcasts—through my aids! Sometimes I have a little difficulty getting the aids synced to my phone, but mostly it works beautifully. What a deal!
So, in one sense, I would rather not acknowledge that my aging will progress whether I want it to or not. But as long as the technology keeps up, I’m happy.
Would you like to share your hearing aid experience?
Discussion (41)
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About 18 months ago I had a cold and ended up with fluid in my left ear and ended up with tinnitus and hearing loss. I have the hearing of "90 year old", but it is more complicated. There is a loss of high frequencies and a difficulty in distinguishing consonants. Conversions in a room full of people talking are muddled. It is an inconvenience today, but it is heading toward being a problem. Technology will be my crutch.
The worst part is that the ENT specialist I went to told me there was nothing to be done, but he probably could have fixed it if I had seem him earlier. That is bad, because his process requires a visit a general doctor and a hearing testing person first, which delayed my visit to him. Hell of a system.
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"Your right eardrum looks like the surface of the moon."
That's what the last doctor who examined my ears told me, about thirty years ago. I've never been one for loud concerts, so I suspect it was a consequence of childhood ear infections, motorcycle riding, and scuba diving.
I hear just fine, as long as I can watch people's lips while they're talking to me. My kids learned not to try to speak to me while they were walking away -- unless they really didn't want me to hear what they were saying.
I can't engage in conversations in bars, but that's okay with me as (1) I'm usually the only completely sober person there, and (2) I'm sufficiently introverted that I don't enjoy small talk with strangers. (Someone once said that "I don't like small talk" is often another way of saying "I'm a narcissist." I suspect there's truth in that.)
I've said for years that my tombstone will have two things engraved on it in quotation marks, because my kids have heard them so often:
"Be careful."
and
"What was that?"
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Towards the end of a course of physical therapy addressing arthritic weakening of the knee, I mentioned to the therapist I was finding myself wobbly at times, such as when I had my eyes closed in the shower. He suggested I get a vestibular evaluation to see if balance therapy might be advisable.
Looking at providers that were in-network for insurance purposes, the private ones all seemed to be fully focused on hearing aids, which were generally not covered by my plan and were hundreds, if not thousands, of dollars. This led me to think these outfits would be all about selling me hearing aids, not so much addressing balance issues, so I went to an audiology department at an in-network hospital. The audiology exam revealed mild to moderate hearing loss, and I received a prescription for hearing aids, even though I have no perception of such a need.
In any event, out of curiosity, I consulted the one and only company providing aids for which my insurance provided coverage, setting a fixed price so a pair would cost somewhere between $1,200 to $2,000. I was given the phone number to call for this exclusive provider. To my dismay, this outfit treats one like a child . . . one could not make one's own appointment, one had to be on a three-way call with their rep; plus, when I demurred, they started calling me up to three times a day, until I told them in no uncertain terms I was NOT interested. Turns out the provider is owned by . . . a hearing aid manufacturing company. What a racket.
But that was the bad stuff. The good stuff is that the follow-up visit with the ENT doc had led to a Rx for balance therapy. I am now in the midst of that, and my closed eyes balance is improving noticeably. Very grateful!!
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How frustrating! I hope you get the situation remedied, and soon!
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Well, then I guess I'm a narcissist. I don't like small talk either, and I participate just so I don't alienate people. I also limit the amount of time. Seems to work for me!
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