No, YOU need hearing aids
What do you mean, I *failed a test*?
It all started when my ENT suggested I visit an audiologist.
I had told him I had developed a slight, constant ringing in my ears, and he looked up from his clipboard with concern.
“Let’s get a baseline on your hearing,” he said, handing me an audiologist’s card. Then, while bobbing his open hand up and down in a calming, hypnotic way, he said, “Because… sometimes… tinnitus... CAN… indicate hearing loss.”
Untroubled, I trotted into the audiologist’s office to get my baseline. “Wow,” I thought, “This is the kind of place people go who have actual hearing issues. It’s an old people place.”
The audiologist guided me into a padded room (probably my first indication that things were about to go south), and asked me to listen to beeps and boops, to repeat words, and to press a button when I heard things.
I felt like I was on a semi-fun game show, and I, at my tender age, was ready to ace this test.
Nope. I failed, and I’m still reeling.
Back in her office, the audiologist popped $7,000 hearing aids into my ears.
“Some of the little hairs in your hearing organs aren’t working anymore,” she explained, in the same gentle way my ENT had suggested this might be an issue.
With the help of the ~hEaRiNg AiDs~ I could understand every word she said. The last few years of my life flashed before my eyes (my ears?): times I couldn’t understand a conversation, even after I asked for clarification, certain students (usually girls) who sounded practically silent to me, and other small things I have missed along the way.
How long has this been going on?
I didn’t commit to the hearing aids on the spot. They are expensive, and I need time to psychologically digest the idea that I need them.
“Are you left-handed?” the audiologist guessed, correctly.
Apparently, I’ve been lifting things to my left ear for many years now — phones, babies, you name it — and they’ve worn out some of those little hairs in my hearing organs, especially that one.
“Your right ear is still pretty good!” she encouraged. But at that point, I just needed to remove the strange devices poking into both of my ears, leave her office, and listen to the sound of my tinnitus by myself for a while.
And sure, I will probably get them, and soon. I can’t continue to pursue a career that involves so much listening without a little assistance.
But really?
Me too…