Do you ever feel that your hearing technology is talking to you, that it’s trying to tell you something?
My mother used to say things like that. “Gael, your clothes are trying to tell you something”, meaning they were past due for the laundry, or my outfit didn’t ‘go’ (God help you if you wore black pants with a navy blue top or a floral/check combination). On the morning after the night before, we moan, “I think my body is trying to tell me something.”
Why wait for a hearing crisis? If we listen hard, we may hear our hearing aids (or other technology) asking something important, prodding us to action that may be crucial to our mutual well-being. Or, sometimes they just want to vent.
Q: When I grow up, will I become a cochlear implant?
A: Sorry little fella, this is it for you. You’re a hearing aid and you should be proud of it. The day may come that I move on to a cochlear implant, but for now, it’s just you and me.
Q: Have you forgotten about me? I’m here in the dark—a drawer or a box— and I’m pretty sure I’ve been here awhile. I thought you were coming back, but it seems like weeks since I’ve seen the light of day. Don’t you miss me? How are you getting along without me? Why did I even ask that question? You can’t get along without me because you can’t hear well without me, and you’re delusional if you think you can, buster! And after all the hard work I do for you…don’t you love me any more? Help, somebody, let me outta here!
Q: When is it time for my bath?
A: Feeling a little grungy, are you? You’re right, bud, I’m behind schedule in wiping you off. OK, I’m pulling you out—bath time!
Q: What are you getting mad at me for? I would like to say that it DEEPLY offends me when you start cussing and carrying on, as if the faults in how I operate are mine. I am what I am, created by others and operated by you. I do my best and if you have any further issues, kindly take them up with management and stop yelling at me.
Q: I miss our hearing care specialist. Can we go visit her? I love going; it’s a cross between the doctor and the amusement park. Sometimes it hurts a bit, but mostly it tickles when she pokes about in my orifices. And I just feel so good when we’re done, like teeth after a cleaning, like a baby after a bath. Then, I’m recharged and raring to go. And you hear better; I know you do, because your ears start pricking up like a rabbit’s.
Q: I’m feeling a bit sick and stuffed up. Is it time to change my wax guard?
A: Oops, sorry, will do.
Q: I’m getting very old; have you thought about replacing me? I don’t think I can go on much longer. I’m sputtering. I’m shrinking in your ear and the air is escaping around me and making noises. I hate to admit this, but I’m not as good at my job as I used to be, because you’re not hearing so well. I would like to retire with dignity, if you’ll let me. Gather up your money and have a chat with the audiologist. If you do that, here’s what I’m prepared to do for you: put me a comfy retirement spot, and I’ll be on standby in case the young lion you bring in to replace me has some ‘issues’. This may be my last entry.
Q: Can I dress up as a princess for Hallowe’en?
A: Haven’t we had this conversation before? I am not using pink nail polish to tart you up. But I will wear a small pink boa feather around my ear and a dangly diamond earring…you will look gorgeous, darling!
Listen to that inner hearing aid voice. You’ll hear better if you do.