It was time to get my hearing tested. When I got the results of the tests, I cried. Besides being a teacher, I am a musician. I play piano and sing like a heavenly angel. I really got into a shouting match with God. "Why? Why me? I am using the talents you gave me to serve you. I teach. I love my kids. I'm a nerd-I love English! And my music?? I'm singing in Your house!!!" I didn't get it at all.
I received my first pair of hearing aids. Hated them. Couldn't wait to jerk them out of my ears at the end of the day. On the way home from school, I put them in the car ashtray. When I got home, first I removed my shoes, then my aids. They distorted my hearing. What I had previously been able to do involuntarily I had to do voluntarily. I had to decide what to listen to and what not to listen to. I had to constantly adjust the volume. I put them in. I took them out. It was exhausting. And, despite what Miracle Ear claims, you hear everything at the same level. Just the normal movement of my students drove me crazy. Papers shuffling, feet moving, pencils writing, people breathing. If someone coughed, I nearly jumped out of my skin. Those were analog aids. Now, the ones I wear are digital. We have come a long way, but I still read lips even with thousands of dollars of technology in my ears.
Back to the music thing. I became very bitter. I decided if I couldn't sound the way I used to, then I'd just give it up. I did. No piano. No singing. No radio. Nothing. I quit cold turkey. By the time I could afford a really great sound system in my car, I no longer could hear the nuances in the music. Poor me.
The upside of all this is that I became a secret weapon on cafeteria duty. Since I could read lips, I could tell when one kid was trying to hustle another for money. I could tell when a fight was about to break out. I learned enough profanity to last me a lifetime. When I student taught, my co-operating teacher could not hear. So, when kids asked if they could sharpen their pencils, she would give them permission to use the restroom. It was funny then, but not when I started doing the same thing.
Another time, a friend and I were riding in a car listening to an oldies station. The Rascals came on singing "Groovin"" I looked at her and asked who Leslie was. "You know-"you and me and Leslie groovin"" She cracked up. The line was "you and me endlessly groovin'"
Before I conclude this riveting series on Meniere's, I would like to leave you with some "dos" and "don'ts."
When someone tells you he or she is hearing impaired, don't say, "Huh?" After the ten thousandth time, it ceases to be funny.
When someone is wearing hearing aids, don't shout at them. You will cause their eyeballs to liquefy.
When someone wearing aids, asks you to repeat something, don't roll your eyes, sigh, and talk to them as if they are a toddler.
When you notice someone is wearing hearing aids, don't try to avoid looking at them. Makes us feel like we have a large booger on the end of our noses too horrible to look at.
Do be kind to them.
Do be patient with them.
Do enunciate clearly and for heaven's sake don't cover your mouth when you speak.
Now, I think my hearing aids are beautiful. More valuable than gold or jewels. Because of them, I sing, I hear babies laugh and coo, I hear my precious Pepper snore when she sleeps at my feet, I hear my resident Canadian geese honking, and I hear the wind blow. Because of them, I hear life.
