HEAR, HEAR! WHAT’S THAT YOU SAID?

Most of us are born with all our senses intact. It’s a blessing. And most of us experience a lessening of these excellent faculties as we age and, that’s a bummer.

The proof of the pudding

I was one of the fortunate who had, from birth, wonderfully sharp hearing, seeing, tasting, touching, and smell. When I tested for Music and Art High School in NYC, the test consisted not only of proficiency in either music or art but also had a physical element. During the try-out, one of the tasks was to listen to three tones through a head-set and determine whether the middle sound was the same, higher or lower than the others. These tones ranged from upper registers to lower ones and were close in sound to each other. It wasn’t easy.

After I completed the test, I happened to accompany the student monitor who carried my results to the admission office, and the monitor told me I had a perfect score. Of course, I couldn’t take any credit for that since that was how I was born — with excellent hearing.

On the proficiency side, I auditioned by playing Beethoven’s Country Dances on the piano. I played the first two pages well, but when I got to the top of the third page, my hands froze for unknown reasons, and I couldn’t play another note. I just sat there, trembling. The auditioner was a kind person and allowed me to try it again.

(I was accepted, hurrah, and spent the next four years playing the French Horn. We all had to play a second instrument. Music and Art High School was one of the specialized high schools in New York City. It was fabulous.)

So, time passed, and, gradually, so did my hearing.

Years later, during my working years in my sixties, I thought my hearing was adequate. I noticed, however, that I frequently had to ask people to repeat themselves. I could mostly hear and understand everyone, except when the conversation turned to gossip, fascinating gossip. At that point, the volume of the conversation lowered, as did my comprehension. It was so frustrating. Missing out on the latest juicy news wasn’t any fun at all.

At the same time, I found that I wasn’t able to have conversations with my grandchildren because I couldn’t understand one word of what they said. It saddened me and prompted me to seek help from an audiologist, and, sure enough, I needed hearing aids.

Here’s my pet peeve.

Hearing aids are expensive, and Medicare has made the decision not to pay for them. It has also made a decision not to pay for eyeglasses. How frustrating is that? If Medicare is supposed to cover the medical needs of the over 65 set, aren’t these devices near the top of the needs list. Many people can’t afford them. I know they are not medical but consider this scenario. A person who is not able to see or hear well may be hit by a vehicle while attempting to cross the street. Medicare then might have expensive bills to pay for the victim’s recovery. Wouldn’t it be more prudent to prevent the incident in the first place? Their decision doesn’t make sense.

WHO estimates that unaddressed hearing loss costs the global economy US$ 750 billion annually due to health sector costs (excluding the cost of hearing devices), prices of educational support, loss of productivity, and societal costs.

My hearing is now seriously impaired.

I’ve been wearing hearing aids for sixteen years. I’d be at sea without them. I reach for them as soon as I get out of bed and wear them all day long. They are a link to my connection with the rest of the world. In group activities, there are times when the conversation is too fast and too soft for me to comprehend the content.

My choice is to ask my friends and family to speak louder and slower, and they are more than willing to do so. After the next few minutes go by, the conversation returns naturally to its former volume and speed, and I am lost. I can’t ask them again because I know the same thing will happen.

So, I remain seated, smile, and nod when everyone else does, without knowing what I’m smiling and nodding about. I have to act like I can understand the content of the conversation when I can’t follow it at all. Not hearing well separates one from the flow of dialogue. Isolation, and sometimes boredom, is the result. After a while, loneliness sets in, and brain function diminishes.

Hearing loss is associated with Alzheimer’s disease and dementia. The risk increases with the hearing loss degree. There are several hypotheses, including cognitive resources being redistributed to hearing, and social isolation from hearing loss, having a negative effect. According to Thomson RS, Auduong P, Miller AT, Gurgel RK (April 2017). “Hearing loss as a risk factor for dementia: A systematic review.”

The use of hearing aids can diminish the severity of dementia. According to preliminary data, in an article by Hoppe U, Hesse G (2017–12–18). “Hearing aids: indications, technology, adaptation, and quality control hearing aid usage can slow down the decline in cognitive functions.

Masks are a challenge.

I generally understand one on one conversations because I have learned to lip read. Since COVID and masks, though, I’m just out of luck. I’ve lost about 50% of my comprehension by not being able to watch someone’s mouth as they speak. Also, since my hearing aids rest behind my ears, when I put my mask on, its elastic bands often push my hearing aids aside. Then, frequently added to that are the sides of my sunglasses, also behind my ears. Can you imagine that each of the items, hearing aids, elastic bands, and sunglasses, are fighting with each other for supremacy in that tiny space? Well, that’s what I’m sensing. It’s ridiculous!

I hope that once we are all vaccinated, we won’t need masks. But, who knows when that will be, if ever.

You can see that I’ve gone from the top of the hearing heap down to my current level. There are people with worse hearing than I’m currently experiencing. I understand that, and I feel sorry for them. I’m doing the best I can and try to have realistic expectations. Life is challenging, and happily, I’m still able to put up a good fight.