« The Brain Activity Behind Tinnitus Uncovered | Main | Hearing Aid to Hear What You're Missing »
January 16, 2008
Silence is Golden
I was sound asleep when I finally accepted the fact that I have a significant hearing loss in my left ear. Lying on my right side with my "good" ear pressed firmly into the pillow, I didn't hear the telephone ring until my man, Spud, kicked me under the covers to answer it.
At first, I thought post-nasal drip had blocked my sinuses. When decongestants did not relieve the symptoms, I blamed it on the Florida trip from which we had just returned.
Having traveled by plane, I surmised my ears still were under high-altitude pressure. No matter how much I swallowed, though, it didn't help . . . nor did pinching my nose and forcing air into my Eustachian tubes, which resulted in nothing more than stuck-together nostrils.
I decided to give it some time to self correct until the ringing began about a week later. Actually, it's not ringing. It's more of a high-pitch squeal that constantly reminds me that something weird is going on inside my head.
So I began self-testing my hearing by scratching my right shoulder to listen to the sound it made and then scratching my left to listen to . . . nothing.
The plethora of doctor visits that followed for the next four years came with a plethora of diagnoses. All of which are irrelevant now. And, after one doctor attributed it to menopause, I figured doctors were irrelevant, and I needed a hearing aid if I wanted to hear what anyone to my left had to say.
That's where the vanity part came in.
I refused to get a hearing aid because, well . . . what if I wanted to pull my hair back behind my ears? Someone would see it. And what if the sweet nothings Spud was whispering really were nothing? You see, having a flesh-colored ear plug lurking inside my ear canal screamed (even if I couldn't hear it) "You're old!"
The deal breaker came when I tried to read my granddaughter's lips in the rear-view mirror while driving 70 mph down the Parkway. Just as I was about to change lanes while trying to decipher Chloe's demands, a honking car suddenly appeared in my path. I knew it was time when the honks were muffled.
After I ordered the hearing aid, I was excited until I turned it on. Everything sounded like it was coming from the bottom of a well. The amplification device did exactly what it was supposed to do � amplify.
It amplified the air-condition fan above my desk and the tap, tap, tap of my fingers hitting the computer keyboard. It amplified the rustling of papers my co-workers shuffled around during meetings, and (yikes!) the noise my jeans make as my thighs rub together when I walk.
It even amplified a creak in a toilet seat I sat on!
I know I should be thankful that I'm able to hear anything amplified, but I'm not. I don't care if I hear the footsteps of the person walking in front of me. I don't care if I can hear the whoosh of the winter wind blow in my ear while I'm rushing to my car.
Ah, but I do care. Otherwise I wouldn't be ready to plunk down another $900 for the high-powered, digital model that blocks out background noise and is not covered by medical insurance.
Wait a minute; here's a thought.
Maybe they'll cover it if I blame it on menopause.
http://www.app.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20080116/LIFE01/801160341/1006/LIFE
Posted by 4HL on January 16, 2008 7:19 AM
Send this article to a friend