Better Hearing Consumer

Living with hearing loss is a challenge, but there are a few things about it that are easy. It’s EASY to convince ourselves that we’re doing ‘fine’ with our hearing loss: We’re catching most of what’s said, The important stuff anyway. We don’t need a hearing aid or cochlear implant – Those are for other people with real problems. It’s EASY

In Flanders fields the poppies blow Between the crosses, row on row, That mark our place; and in the sky The larks, still bravely singing, fly Scarce heard amid the guns below. This is the first verse of the searing and hauntingly beautiful poem by Canadian doctor/soldier, Lt-Colonel John McCrae. He wrote it in 1915, reportedly after a friend in

I have hearing loss. My husband does not. A more exact description of my hearing ability is that I am deaf without my devices. With my hearing aid and cochlear implant sound processor, I hear reasonably well, but often struggle to locate the sound or even what it is. The Hearing Husband can hear an animal rustling in the bushes

Have you noticed how anxious people look in the airport? With looks ranging from mild frowns to serious panic, they navigate a busy airport full of people who look just like them. I’ve worn that look myself when traveling solo. Why is this? In an article on airport anxiety, writer Jenny Bhatia lists common sources of worry such as not

Last week I had one of my favorite speaking gigs: talking to audiologists, both those already practicing and those in training to become one. As a person with congenital hearing loss, I’ve been under the care of hearing care professionals (HCP) of all stripes for my entire life. I don’t think I’ve ever met an audiologist who wasn’t passionate about

I’m an admirer of human head decorations – head bling of all types. Purple hair, funky eyeglasses and jewellery – whether attached to the head with magnets, clips or piercings. I admire both the artistry and the artistic spirit of the wearers. And I adore earrings; my earlobes are never naked! Speaking of those things on the sides of our

I have written in glowing terms about my hearing aids and sound processors. How they lift me from a place of missed words, undecipherable sounds, and misplaced meanings. How they alert me to movement and action. How they connect me to people. I love my devices; I respect and even revere them. Except when sometimes, somehow, they go off the

This morning, the Hearing Husband looked at me and said I love you. I know he said this even though I wasn’t up to speed technically; it was early and I had only one of my two hearing devices attached to my head. I am, however, a crackerjack speechreader and I saw him say it. After  I said it back

As a teenager with hearing loss, I often wondered “Why me?” It’s tough enough being a teenager, let alone one with a communication challenge. My friends didn’t need to sit at the front of the class in school. They could whisper secrets. I felt left out, even embarrassed at my difference. But over a long period of time (we’re talking

(Note: I’ve adapted this blog from my 2016 article, Drinks, Dementia and Hearing Loss. A great title, but as I don’t want to confuse Google, I’ve tacked on a couple of important words.) For those who have hearing loss and/or chronic tinnitus, news of breakthrough cures or treatments makes our hearts beat faster. Then it becomes: yeah, yeah, tell us