My hearing issues with tinnitus span decades of “that’s the way it is” acceptance. A few years ago, large groups and noisy classrooms meant I guessed at words and phrases unless the speaker stood straight before me. Frankly, once I stepped away from crowded rooms, I stopped noticing the decline in my hearing ability.
Until this last year, that is. When I sit in the back seat of the car, any conversations from up front dodge back to me with uncertainty. At first, I excused my inability to discern conversations because music played around us, and my family members faced forward. Explanations I chimed to myself to avoid the inevitable. The other day, I begged my husband to repeat numbers to me as we worked our monthly budget. “Was that a five? Or a nine?” If he doesn’t turn to face me directly, I’ll have to ask again.
I know that’s clearly a sign that things have changed more than I’d like to admit. I need to have a long talk with my physician during my annual exam this summer. I can convince myself that not having to ask “What?” a billion times a day will add quality to my life. If hearing aids become my newest dip into elderly fashion, I will embrace them with cool self-confidence. After all, it’s still better than all of those years I wore braces!
Copyright 2024 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman
