Convincing my folks that they needed hearing aids was not easy. (Primarily because people who can't hear are seldom moved by verbal persuasion.) When we began repeating everything to Dad at least three times, we finally sought professional help. His doctor told us to make sure we had his attention and to speak clearly to him. We needed to make sure other noises were not interfering with the conversation. This was interesting advice from a man who sees him every few months in a small, quiet room. It worked for him, right. It should have worked for us.
Well, muting the TV every time we wanted to say something became a bit of a challenge. We also found it hard to stop noisy traffic from passing by and silencing everyone in the restaurant was just about impossible. We decided the only quiet place where Dad could really hear and understand was the exam room at the doctor's office.
Finally, Dad agreed to get his hearing checked and, not surprisingly, he had a severe hearing loss. So he got hearing aids and we, optimists that we were, thought life would once again return to an auditory norm.
But now that Dad could hear, it quickly became apparent that Mom couldn't. When we suggested that she should have her hearing checked as well, we entered phase two in the hearing aid saga and quickly realized that denial is not a river in Egypt.
For the next year or so we learned that we all mumbled and there were too many things on her mind to pay attention to every spoken word. By now Dad had mastered turning his hearing aids off when they watched TV because she needed the volume turned up so high.
Just when we were thinking that would be the only adjustment ever to be made, a staff member in rehab told Mom to have her hearing checked. Suddenly it became important for her to get an appointment right away. Of course, we discovered Mom also had severe hearing loss and so she too was fitted with hearing aids.
So, just as with the Wonderful World of Walkers, we entered the Harrowing Halls of Hearing Aids. Whoever invented those little suckers, must have been guaranteed financial security for generations to come.
First of all, they are not cheap and insurance companies don't seem to think they need to help out with the purchase. Secondly, they run on batteries that last a little less time than a melting Popsicle. Add to that wax traps and tips that need to be changed frequently and small parts that stop working and need repair and it is apparent that hearing aids have created great financial and job security for a large segment of the population.
But now that we are all getting used to Mom and Dad having them, life gets very interesting when they take them out. Soon after they moved in with us, we heard them shouting after they had gone to bed. Thinking they needed help, we rushed down the stairs only to realize they were shouting at each other. Thinking perhaps they had gotten into an argument, we stood by their door to make sure they would be all right.
As we listened we realized they had taken out their hearing aids and were just saying good night to each other. It was a touching moment as each good night or I love you was followed by a shouted What? and then the corresponding What did you say? Finally, after several minutes, they managed to convey their sentiments to each other. The truly amazing part of it all is that this ritual is repeated each and every night.
In the end, I guess it's wonderful that love is still love after all these years and perhaps it is only magnified when it reaches 129 decibels.
 |
| route of magnification |
No comments:
Post a Comment