Can you hear me now?

Odd how life keeps moving, whether you’re paying attention or not.  Strange things happen, and unless you pause just long enough to catch the blur, you might miss the whole thing entirely.

When my husband was in the hospital recently, I picked up the phone in my hotel room and buzzed the front desk.  There were tiny scratchy-sounding noises on the other end but no voice, so I assumed the phone was out of order.  Not exactly.  The extremely polite young maintenance man who came to my room could hear just fine.  Cue icy fingers of dread on the back of my neck.

Two weeks later Kim and I found ourselves sitting in the office of an Ear, Nose & Throat specialist.  Holding the results of my hearing test in her hand and looking intently at the two of us, she said, “So.  What took you so long?  This is bad.”  To which both of us at the exact same time answered, “Pride.”

Somewhere along the line, in the process of living a full and busy life, and most likely helped along by my years as a tractor jockey, I have lost all of my highs and lows and a considerable amount of what’s supposed to be in between.  It happened so gradually at first, I wasn’t consciously aware of what was taking place, but I knew I was missing things people said and that the problem was growing steadily more frustrating.  I couldn’t figure out why Kim was always deliberately lowering the sound level when we were watching TV, and I uncharacteristically snapped at him for it.  I was irritated that nearly everyone seemed to speak rapidly and in very subdued tones.  It was becoming much more relaxing to stay home rather than to put myself in situations where I had to strain to keep up.  

  

I knew I was perpetually asking Kim to increase the volume on the TV … but not that I was plastering him against the back wall of the living room ala an old Maxell ad.  Patient loving soul that he is, he never really let on.  He knows I don’t react well to being told what to do, so he was in the process of, in his words, gently “leading me to the proper decision."

The day of my exam, this card-carrying senior citizen (gasp!) became the proud owner of a set of high-dollar, high-tech personal audio enhancement devices.  They’re sweet little triangle-shaped computers about an eighth of an inch thick that nestle behind the top part of my ears, and each one is attached to a tiny almost invisible tube that ends in an extremely small speaker.  Once my hairdresser and I conspire on a slightly modified haircut, no one on God’s green earth would know I wear them.  Except that I just told you.

There’s a reason why I’m breaking my silence (so to speak) about something I was originally very reluctant to admit I needed – life is too brief and too beautiful to miss.  If you suspect that your audio capabilities could use a boost, don’t wait.  What I thought would make me feel older instead makes me feel infinitely younger.  For one thing, constantly saying “What?” does not make you hip.

Suddenly being able to hear again was something of a shock.  The sheer mass and variety of sounds was overwhelming at first.  But it’s been very gratifying to sit back and observe while my brain does what it’s designed to do – delineate and categorize the individual kinds of input, labeling them important, not so important, okay to ignore, and so on.

There are myriad sounds I hadn’t heard in a very long time but didn’t realize I was doing without.  The swish of my own bare feet on our tile floors.  Birds outside my office window.  The tick of my star-shaped clock on the wall.  The rush and patter of rain, with its thunderous applause.  A hundred sweet little accompaniments to the ballet of daily living.  Sometimes it touches me so deeply to be able to hear again, it moves me to tears.  When I take my ears off, my world instantly reverts to mute.  The contrast is staggering.

An audio test is one of the least expensive gifts you could give to yourself and those who love you, and it would be a shame to let pride rob you of some of life’s sweetest joys.