When I "grew up," I started to write about music. It's something I still do, often listening to dozens of new albums in a single month.

While the constant exposure to music has been a joy, it has come at a steep price.

I now wear a hearing aid in my left ear.

I got fitted in 1999, when I was barely 40. Truthfully, I should have done so much earlier.

My music-listening tendencies reached a new (volume) level just prior to Christmas 1973, when I received a brand new stereo - with headphones. By the late '70s, I was at times using the headphones for hours upon end. And while I never listened to heavy metal, I frequently listened at abnormally loud levels. When I would take the headphones off, I would sometimes hear a buzzing sound.

Listening loud is something I continued in college, as I became a disc jockey and got more involved in the music scene. I managed a rock 'n' roll band, always sitting in the front at gigs, and always near the speakers. Wherever I went, I was surrounded by music. That was especially true in my car, which served as my own private listening room (It would sometimes amaze me how high the volume on the car radio was set when I turned on the ignition).

Throughout the 1980s, I noticed a gradual decline in my hearing. Figuring it was some type of blockage, I visited an audiologist around 1990 to have my ears "cleaned." I was told I needed a hearing aid.

I was convinced this assessment was wrong. Because people in their 30s don't wear hearing aids, I was sure that the audiologist was trying to sell me something I didn't need. So I went back to life - and listening - as usual. But as time went by, I became more self-conscious about my hearing. There would be more trips to hearing specialists - each one in search of the original "blockage" diagnosis I wanted to hear.

In the meantime, my hearing difficulties began to affect other aspects of my life. Listening to music was never a problem, as I could always turn that up. It was in the nuances of daily living where I found myself struggling.

At news conferences or meetings, I always tried to arrive early so I could get a good seat up front (speakers who walked around the room as they spoke drove me crazy). As a reporter, I found myself relying more on tape recorders, fearful that I would miss a crucial word or phrase (we reporters hate to be accused of misquoting).

I had particular trouble with female voices, such as my boss at the newspaper where I worked. There were times when she would be giving me reminders from just a few feet away. Although I couldn't make out what she was saying, I would nod in agreement - with no idea what I was agreeing to.

Personal relationships were also strained, as I strained to hear soft passages. If your spouse or someone else dear to you whispers "I love you," the appropriate response is hardly, "Huh? Can you repeat that?"

It was my wife who ultimately convinced me to get a hearing aid. The truth had become undeniable. My hearing had gotten so bad that I wasn't enjoying myself.

The good news is that wearing a hearing aid has enhanced my life. But while it enables me to hear what I was missing, I realize it's not a license to listen to music irresponsibly. Now, I try to control volume levels. And I'm more discerning about the shows I go to see. Just last week, I considered going to see Drive-By Truckers at the Orange Peel in Asheville. But while I like the band's music, they have a reputation for loud shows, enough so that I decided not to go.

While I'm still passionate about music, I will not risk further damage to my hearing. So I pick and choose, and use hearing protection when necessary.

If you have trouble hearing, I urge you to have it checked out. And if your ears are in good shape, do what you can to insure they stay that way.

By Jim McGuinness
http://www.timesnews.net/communityArticle.dna?_StoryID=3607116