Loud and clear

Highlight of my day was a trip to the audiologist on the TCU campus. My new hearing aids have been a big improvement, but there were still some problems—like the telephone. It cut in and out like there was a short, and sometimes I’d hear conversation in one ear or the other, sometimes both. That’s not the way it’s supposed to be. Some research on the part of Tracy, the wonderful audiologist, confirmed what Christian suspected: my phone is too old to interact properly with the new hearing aids. So a new phone is in my immediate future—not the latest, whiz-bang version with lots of bells and whistles, but one that is one or two generations back. I don’t use a lot of apps, etc.

Then Tracy did a series of tests to determine what was a comfortable hearing level for me in various circumstances. I said that some soft-spoken men were hard for me to understand, and she adjusted for that. She reminded me my aids have various levels that I can choose—normal, comfort (in loud surroundings), one that will refine music, etc. At one point, she was ruffling through papers, and I said, “I can hear the paper noise!” Another time, I told her my own voice sounded loud in my head, and she took it down a peg or two, saying she didn’t want it to be so annoying that I wouldn’t wear the aids. It was really fine tuning, and I was impressed.

While there I noticed that her offices are filled with children’s toys and books, and posters about children and hearing. Apparently as many as five children in a thousand having hearing loss, due to exposure to loud noise, disease, etc. I remembered that my Jamie didn’t hear me when he was about three. I could stand behind him, speak his name, and he ignored me—no, not a willful child. He wasn’t hearing. We thought of two causes—he loved to play gun games and make rat-a-tat sounds, which probably led more to occasional hoarseness than lack of hearing. But his ears were stopped up—I never did know why. The pediatrician recommended ear tubes, but the morning he was scheduled for surgery, this mom freaked out about anesthetic and cancelled. Eventually he outgrew it, and as far as I know now in his fifties his hearing is fine. But children who don’t hear are at a huge disadvantage in school as well as socially. They may also have speech problems. So get those youngsters tested.

The other population group where hearing is a major concern is, of course, the elderly. Hearing loss again may be due to many causes, from wax build-up to underlying disease, but often it is simply part of aging. Estimates are that about one third of the elderly population suffer from hearing loss, and studies have shown that hearing loss increases the incidence of dementia. Unable to hear, too many people withdraw from those around them and therefore lack the stimulation of normal social interaction.

I cannot tell you how many friends I know who deny they need hearing aids. Often they demand that you speak up, because of course the problem is yours not theirs. I guess there is an old-age stigma attached to hearing loss, so just as some deny signs of aging, they deny hearing loss. And it increases without treatment.

My own hearing loss started in my fifties and was a complication of a combination of drugs I received having to do with menopause. I remember one morning when I had an appointment with the gynecologist, I saw a tiny item in the newspaper that a combination of estrogen and progesterone was causing increased hearing loss at a younger age in some women. I asked my doctor if he knew about it, and he said, “No, but I will be tonight.” I knew he would immediately look up the relevant study.

To me, hearing aids are like walkers. Too many people let their pride get in the way of getting the help that is available, and then they don’t live their best life. I have no patience with them. So, think people are mumbling, especially on the phone? Have to turn the TV up so loud others complain? Have trouble hearing in a crowded room or restaurant? Don’t miss out on the world—go get tested.

In the category of “If It’s going to go wrong, it will,” my kitchen sink is now backing up. Christian said he’d go get Draino but, impatient, I tried a home remedy—vinegar and baking soda. It didn’t work, and now the sink and counters are gritty because that combination foams up and overflows. If it’s not one thing, it’s another.

Ho hum! I won’t even tempt fate by asking what tomorrow will bring.

Fall leaves—and, “Say what?”

 

After the sudden, dramatic drop in temperatures overnight, today was beautiful in North Texas. It seems two things happened overnight with our trees—some decided to shed all their leaves almost at once, while others suddenly burst into color that would rival the best New England has to offer (well, maybe). I sometimes go two or three days without seeing the front of our house, so I was astounded today to see that the new Chinese pistache is a brilliant red gold, while the oak towering behind it is a deep, rich red. Wish I’d taken a picture. Meanwhile, my patio is literally ankle-deep in pecan fronds—that’s right, not individual leaves but fronds. The patio was blown clear twice yesterday and this morning it was covered again.

A bookstore sandwich board photographed in an online newsletter this morning referred to this as the season when we transition from spooky anxiety to festive anxiety. I really liked that.

Today I have named myself the unofficial poster child for hearing aids. I had an overdue appointment with Tracy, the audiologist at TCU’s Miller Speech and Hearing Clinic. She tested my hearing, though she didn’t say much about the results, and I suspect there’s little change in the two years since I last saw her. What she did say, and has said countless times before, is that it’s important that I wear my hearing aids even when I’m alone and not listening to anything. My brain needs to adjust to using them. If I take them off, say after supper, my brain shrugs and says, “What’s the use of trying?” A hearing challenge is not just an auditory problem—it involves brain function, and everyone reacts differently.

We talked about things and situations that make hearing difficult—no louder is not better. And yes, sometimes, I can hear words distinctly but not comprehend them. That too is a matter of brain function. I think maybe she was trying tactfully to say something about slowing down with aging, but I told her it’s not any worse now than it was seven years ago when I first saw her. I don’t have an exact figure, but I suspect I’ve worn aids for twenty years or more.

I asked about the new ruling that lets companies sell aids over the counter, and she compared those to readers. If you need just a little help, they’re great; if your hearing loss leans toward major, you need more sophisticated—and expensive—devices. And if you have problems with your devices—like a tinny sound—an audiologist can often adjust them to meet your needs. I mentioned that one of mine keeps falling out of my ear—she not only said she’d noticed that, she adjusted it.

About fifteen percent of Americans (some 37 million of us) suffer some degree of hearing loss. It can be sudden or slow in developing, temporary or permanent. Mine developed because of a combination hormonal therapy—I saw note of a study that determined it in the paper one morning and was the first to tell my doctor. He confirmed it by reading medical journals.

Too many people refuse to get hearing aids. You know them--they say they can hear fine, thank you very much, or it’s too expensive and their insurance won’t cover up. Or it’s too complicated and they couldn’t manage adjusting them, cleaning them, etc. Speak up, they tell you, and stop mumbling. It’s puzzling but many people stubbornly resist the idea of hearing aids when they have no qualms about wearing eyeglasses. I think it’s ego driven, maybe associating hearing loss with aging, but it’s a dangerous denial (and some two or three of every hundred children have hearing loss to some degree, so it’s not for the elderly alone). The biggest complication of untreated hearing loss is social isolation which can, especially in the elderly, lead to depression, anxiety, and dementia. Seems logical that lack of social stimulation opens the gate for those problems. Too many who can’t hear sit back, withdraw, and end up not participating in the world around them. What begins as slow mental deterioration accelerates without stimulation. Statistics tell us untreated hearing loss is also related to cardiovascular disease, diabetes, even stroke.

For the last six years, since surgery necessitated that I use a walker, I’ been an advocate of mobility devices, especially for those of us who are aging—cane, walker, transport chair, scooter. Use those things. To walk without balance is to risk falling. And one bad fall can tip an older person down that slippery slope to invalid status or worse. I’m also an advocate of alarm devices—a watch a pendant, whatever—for those who live alone. So now I’m adding hearing aids. When, if ever, did you have your hearing tested?

You don’t want to go into this festive season saying, “Pardon me?” every time someone wishes you “Happy Holidays”

 

 

Veterans’ Day and a new adventure

 This morning, in spite of high winds predicted, there was barely a breeze stirring, and the flags we all get through South Side Rotary hung rather limply. Still is was lovely to drive the streets of my neighborhood and see all those flags. Unlike many others, I didn’t post pictures of servicemen—in truth, I’m not sure which uncle served where and when. But I know my father was in the Canadian Army during WWI, that terrible war which produced horror tales of life in the trenches and yet also produced some profoundly beautiful literature, especially poetry. I know that my brother’s father (my mother’s first husband) died of an infection from shrapnel in his jaw or cheek, several years after the injury. Mom always said that a few years later, with the introduction of penicillin, he would have lived. I barely remember much about WWII, but I do remember the Korean War. My brother served as a Navy pilot in the lull just after that war. Like most people, I have a family background of service.

Today my new escort/companion/friend and I had our first adventure together. Amy is a delightful young woman, friendly, outgoing, and a joy to be with. And she’s very helpful to me. We went to the audiologist—a visit I’d been putting off because of getting from car to clinic. It’s amazing what they can do these days—they hang a gadget around my neck and can “read” my hearing aids—how many hours a day I average wearing them, what settings I use, and so on. And Tracy, the audiologist, can change all that from her computer. Amy was particularly fascinated because she is the youngest of four sisters, two of whom were born profoundly deaf. Talk about serendipity. Tomorrow we go to the grocery, another place that’s been hard for me (once I get my hands on a car, I can go like a mad woman), and then I’ll go alone to meet a friend for lunch at a place that’s easily accessible to me—thank heavens, because it’s the deli!

Tonight my regular Wednesday dinner with Betty—but Jacob and Christian joined us, and we had a lively table at the Tavern.

I am feeling more optimistic by the day. I think with Amy helping me, I’m going to get back my self-confidence and independence.

Huh? The world of the hearing challenged

I had an appointment with a new and very helpful audiologist today. I've been "hearing challenged" for twenty years or so, many of them spent in denial. Not me, I said. I never listened to loud music much. I didn't fly in a lot of airplanes. I finally got over my denial when I read that women who had been given a certain combination of hormone therapy were experiencing early hearing loss. My family pushed, shoved, and threatened not to talk to me if I didn't do something about it. The first EENT doctor I went to said I needed an aid in at least one ear, he didn't care which one, and had his audiologist hand me a pair to take home and try on. No testing, no fitting, no directions. I declined, went to a commercial audiologist and was tested, fitted with aids, and seen every three months. Three pairs of hearing aids later (and they are not cheap!) my hearing is still a problem.
In really noisy restaurants, I might as well rudely pull out my cell phone and occupy myself because I can't hear a word; church is difficult but I catch most of it; even a gathering of six for happy hour in my own home was difficult for me today. I kept waving my hands and saying what we say to the grandchildren, "Inside voices! Inside voices!" The phone is impossible and particularly difficult with my brother who gets upset when I can't hear and don't tell him. And this morning Jordan was trying to say "warm, wet washrag" to me and she might as well have been speaking Greek. I had to hand the phone to Jacob. Sometimes, you can hear the person talking clearly but the comprehension just isn't there. As a result, I'm probably really rude to telephone solicitors, and every once in a while I come close to missing an important call because I don't understand what's being said.
Today I learned that I haven't had my hearing tested in four years; nor have my hearing aids been adjusted to my changing needs. I was tested (actually improved a bit), the aids adjusted. I learned how to hold the cell phone so that the speaker is directly over the receiver of my aid instead of squarely in my ear. I was challenged to wear my aids all day every day so my brain wouldn't have to keep trying to adjust. Other hints included sitting as far from loudspeakers as possible in restaurants, and sitting with my back to the noise. There's more to be done, but I feel encouraged tonight. When I came home at lunch, even the domestic sounds of rattling around in the kitchen sounded loud.
Hearing loss, as I've learned, can isolate you, even from friends you care about, and it frustrates those around you. I'm going to keep working at this. And if you're in denial, as I was, go do something about it. You'll be glad.