Hearing loss a blessing and a curse for boomer
By Cathy Hamilton
Editor: Here's a humorous look at hearing loss and denial from Cathy
Hamilton, the editor of BoomerGirl.com . You boomers may enjoy poking
around www.BoomerGirl.com - actually, pretty much anybody might enjoy
it.
This article is reprinted with Cathy's kind permission.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I am absorbed in cocktail party conversation with two married friends
when I suddenly realize I can't hear a word they're saying.
Well, that's not exactly true. Sometimes I can hear every other word,
or several words in a row. Occasionally, I catch a whole sentence. Other
times, I lock on to chatter from across the room and lose my own
conversation completely. Then, inevitably, in the din of the crowded
kitchen, it all turns to indecipherable mush.
The man is talking about boomerang kids and the havoc they're
wreaking on his life. I am interested and can totally relate, but all
I'm getting are short clips: "... leaves the light on all night
...," "... went downstairs and stepped in her dog's poo
...," " ... get a job and move out ..."
I lean in, closer and closer - so close, I suspect his wife thinks
I'm trying to kiss him. Of course, if that were true, I'd have a
"come hither" look of passion on my face. Instead, I'm taking
on that scary, screwy look of intense concentration - the one older
people get when they're trying to hear, or comprehend something beyond
their ken, like Medicare Part D or how to download a podcast. It's that
brow-crinkled, crazy-eyed, grimaced expression that happens just before
they cry, "HEH?" at three times normal volume.
Not a sexy look for anyone.
Years ago, after my ears inexplicably started ringing somewhere in
the stratosphere above High C, I had my hearing tested. An hour later,
diagnosed with tinnitus and a mild low-frequency hearing loss, I left
the audiologist' s office and drove straight home to the Isle of Denial.
A hearing loss? Excuse me? (Not "excuse me?" as in
"please repeat yourself" but "excuse me?" as in
"as if!") I am WAY too young! My stereo was never THAT loud in
college. Not like the girl down the hall in the dorm. (Now, THAT was a
stereo.) Mine was a small, tinny-sounding affair. No woofers OR tweeters
for me. How can I have a hearing loss?
I didn't go to THAT many concerts. And it's not like I was a
headbanger or anything. We're talking Jackson Browne and Bonnie Raitt.
Emmylou Harris. James Taylor. And, OK, the Rolling Stones, but that was
in a huge outdoor football stadium. How loud could it have been?
For years, I refused to believe. Even as the TV and car radio got
progressively louder. Even when I'd humiliate myself in meetings by
laughing aloud at what I thought was a joke, only to find out the
comment was a serious analysis of the company's "bottom line."
And because mine is a LOW frequency loss, the sounds I have the most
trouble hearing are men's voices, like my husband's soft baritone or the
boss' bass timbre. You might argue this could be more blessing than
curse, but sometimes it actually pays to hear what your boss is saying.
As for communication at home, that's getting muffled, too. Daily
dialogue between me and my spouse (whose turbo-powered stereo in college
was played at deafening levels) is peppered with phrases like
"What'd you say?" "Huh?" "Did you say
something?" or "Are you talking to ME?"
Nightly TV viewing has become a back-and-forth volley of remote
control volume adjustment. He says, "Can you turn it up a
little?" (I click four notches up for the news.) I say, "Turn
it down, it's hurting my ears!" (He clicks five notches down during
noisy car chases.) He says, "I can't understand a word they're
saying." (I click six notches up for anyone with a British accent.)
Finally, one of us pitches the remote across the room at the other's
recliner. "Here. You keep it!"
Back at the party, my nose-to-nose conversation is coming to an end.
I have tried to laugh and nod at all the appropriate times, but I
suspect I have failed miserably. I feel like I'm trying to play a game
of Gossip under water.
I think, maybe it's time to get off the Isle of Denial, face the
music and get a hearing aid.
Just then, a man approaches from across the kitchen. He is
notoriously long-winded, an insufferable braggart: "I was just
telling Bob over there about the new Jag I bought for the old ball and
chain."
Maybe I'll put the hearing aid off just a little longer.
Some things are better left unheard.
- Cathy Hamilton is editor of BoomerGirl.com and a 51-year-old
empty-nester. Events recounted here may be embellished, exaggerated or
completely made up because she can't remember squat anymore.
