I have a hearing loss. According to the audiologist, 50% in both ears. But that's ok with me. There's too darn much noise in this world, and I'm glad not to hear it.
I tried driving with my hearing aid in, and I heard sounds I never knew a car could make. Kept wondering "How much is it going to cost me to fix this?" And there wasn't anything wrong. Just a normal car sound.
I'm not sure when this loss occurred. It probably started as early as my teen years and progressed by decibel increments too small to notice at first. The reason I say this is that I discovered that I read lips. In a normal face-to-face conversation I do pretty well, but please don't turn your back while you're talking to me. I hear your voice, but the sound doesn't make any sense. I have to connect the lips movements with the sound.
This usually isn't a problem until I happen to mention to people that I'm hard of hearing, and please face me when they talk to me. What happens? They talk louder. Doesn't help.
I never go to movies anymore. The sound is too loud. All it does is reverberate against my eardrums, and I end up with a headache. LOUD doesn't help.
There are some advantages to being hard of hearing, though. I can, at will, shut out what I don't want to hear--unless it's a boombox turned criminally high.
Also, if I seem brusque on the telephone, it's because I can't see your face, so I don't like to carry on an extended telephone conversation.
Now, why in the world am I publishing my hearing problem? I really intended to write about all the Christmas music on the radio now. Well, maybe I'll do that tomorrow.
G'nite all.
I tried driving with my hearing aid in, and I heard sounds I never knew a car could make. Kept wondering "How much is it going to cost me to fix this?" And there wasn't anything wrong. Just a normal car sound.
I'm not sure when this loss occurred. It probably started as early as my teen years and progressed by decibel increments too small to notice at first. The reason I say this is that I discovered that I read lips. In a normal face-to-face conversation I do pretty well, but please don't turn your back while you're talking to me. I hear your voice, but the sound doesn't make any sense. I have to connect the lips movements with the sound.
This usually isn't a problem until I happen to mention to people that I'm hard of hearing, and please face me when they talk to me. What happens? They talk louder. Doesn't help.
I never go to movies anymore. The sound is too loud. All it does is reverberate against my eardrums, and I end up with a headache. LOUD doesn't help.
There are some advantages to being hard of hearing, though. I can, at will, shut out what I don't want to hear--unless it's a boombox turned criminally high.
Also, if I seem brusque on the telephone, it's because I can't see your face, so I don't like to carry on an extended telephone conversation.
Now, why in the world am I publishing my hearing problem? I really intended to write about all the Christmas music on the radio now. Well, maybe I'll do that tomorrow.
G'nite all.