Does any of this sound familiar?
This hearing loss thing’s the pits.
I can’t enjoy a decent meal in a restaurant because it’s too noisy.
Hearing technology took a chunk out of my money, so you’d think that those guys would make ‘em work better.
Family dinners are a noise-fest, everybody trying to out-loud the next guy – while I’m left out of the conversation. Damn near grabbed the turkey and went to my room for some peaceful eating.
People mumble. When I tell them to speak clearer, they roll their eyes and then repeat it slowly, drawing out the words like I’m an idiot.
Sometimes they don’t even repeat, just flip me their hand as if I’m not worth the time.
This hearing loss thing’s the pits.
Or, in this case, a pity-party. But grumpiness is normal in the adjustment to hearing loss, according to the five stages of grief noted by psychiatrist Elisabeth Kubler Ross: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. And if you don’t think you’re grieving, think again. Almost no one receives the diagnosis of hearing loss with a whoop and a holler: “Oh fabulous, at last! I thought this day would never come!”
No, most of us greet the news with silent swearing, a droop of the shoulders, even tears in the eye. But not with surprise. Most people have suspected their hearing loss for a long time, secret struggling, not wanting to admit it, especially to the people in our lives who’ve already figured it out. “Oh for pete’s sake, why don’t you see someone about your hearing loss, you’re driving me nuts.” Tactful, supportive stuff like that.
It’s natural to grumble and feel sorry for ourselves—even to blame others for making our situation worse: the person who stubbornly resists facing us when speaking, or the manufacturer whose hearing aid doesn’t seem to deliver a bang for the buck, or the restaurant owner who plays loud music deliberately to tick us off while pleasing all the other diners. Learning to live well with hearing loss is a process. For most, there is no quick fix, curative tonic, or hands-on healing that make our condition disappear with a poof!
But unless you simply like being grumpy, there comes a time when you need to—how to put this gently?—get over yourself. Hearing loss might be permanent, but poor communication doesn’t have to be. Most of us just need some help to claw our way back to being a reasonably pleasant member of the human race. We can get this help from hearing care professionals, our family and friends, and other people with hearing loss, who know what they’re talking about because they’ve been walking in our shoes. By adopting a new operating system—a fine blend of attitude, knowledge and technology—we will reconnect more positively, especially with our nearest and dearest who are also affected by our hearing loss in a big way, although differently.
Do it. Reach out. Ask your hearing care professional for resources to help you in everyday life. And if the only suggestion you get is to buy additional technology from the hearing aid manufacturer, consider finding another professional. You need information to help you become more assertive having your needs met and to conduct more effective, less stressful conversations. There’s not an ounce of shame in hearing loss—or in asking for help.
Yes, this hearing loss thing is the pits. But just as mountains are there to climb, pits are there to climb out of.
Photo: Kevin W. Harris
