Every once in a while I wonder as somebody will actually say to me, “How lucky you are to not have to hear this or that.” I think, only to myself, is your imagination so small that when you think of hearing loss you can only think of a benefit. How gloriously ridiculous. Do you say to the man with the wheelchair, “How lucky you are to be pushed around.”? And, do you say to the woman missing her left arm, “Isn’t it great you only need to have half a manicure?” I am in the process of losing my hearing. It is still here, albeit defective, but only barely without the hearing aids. Only louder, indiscernible sounds enter into the outer canal and get turned into something the brain perceives as recognizable. With the hearing aids, I am doing ok. Most the time I don’t complain as it does no good. Once in awhile, In certain circumstances, it becomes clear to me that I’m missing out. On those occasions, depending on what they are, I can either speak up and ask for the group at large to speak louder or I do as many do, and just let it slide. It is easier but it is frustrating. I, too, want to connect and be a part of.
The other day a friend on the golf course joked about me not having to hear something etc. etc. etc. While at times I can take a joke just like the next guy, when it comes on the heels of spending a number of hours on the golf course not being able to understand a single thing anyone is saying, and feeling slightly isolated by that fact, I don’t think it’s all that funny. My lovely, fun Boy Scout, who can give and take jokes with the very best of them, has learned that lack of hearing is only funny sometimes. Like when he farts in my general direction and is surprised by a smack on the head when, for one reason or another, I do hear it. Other times he is my superhero and advocate. When reacting to said friend and his careless comment, he spoke his understanding to me and it was nice to be known. Most people just think it would be nice not to hear certain things that annoy their world. I get it, I really do. If only, if only… if only there was silence. I haven’t heard silence in over 25 years. For those of you with tinnitus you know exactly what I’m talking about. It first presented itself with a low-frequency hum that sounds much like the beach on a very windy day. A few years later, a high-pitched tone was added to the low pitch. Listen to this time set at 2,450 to hear what I hear 24/7. The left ear pitch is very high, the right not quite as much. When stressed, when crying, when my heart rate is high, or when my hearing aids are out, the sound is deafening. Meaning I can hear very little else. Not silence as one might imagine but loud tones like a never ending serenade of a single chord on a church organ.
I’m not exactly complaining. I have learned to live with this and will continue to do so with the help of a very supportive community BUT it’s not helpful when some people make light of it. Our bodies were designed to use all of our senses to make sense of the world around us. When one is compromised you find yourself having to adapt or get angry. I’ll keep adapting but as a person who loves to connect to those around me on a deep level, this can definitely hinder the way.
Ps. All that being said, a day on the course is a good day and I certainly don’t let it ruin the whole thing. Life is pretty good.
The other day a friend on the golf course joked about me not having to hear something etc. etc. etc. While at times I can take a joke just like the next guy, when it comes on the heels of spending a number of hours on the golf course not being able to understand a single thing anyone is saying, and feeling slightly isolated by that fact, I don’t think it’s all that funny. My lovely, fun Boy Scout, who can give and take jokes with the very best of them, has learned that lack of hearing is only funny sometimes. Like when he farts in my general direction and is surprised by a smack on the head when, for one reason or another, I do hear it. Other times he is my superhero and advocate. When reacting to said friend and his careless comment, he spoke his understanding to me and it was nice to be known. Most people just think it would be nice not to hear certain things that annoy their world. I get it, I really do. If only, if only… if only there was silence. I haven’t heard silence in over 25 years. For those of you with tinnitus you know exactly what I’m talking about. It first presented itself with a low-frequency hum that sounds much like the beach on a very windy day. A few years later, a high-pitched tone was added to the low pitch. Listen to this time set at 2,450 to hear what I hear 24/7. The left ear pitch is very high, the right not quite as much. When stressed, when crying, when my heart rate is high, or when my hearing aids are out, the sound is deafening. Meaning I can hear very little else. Not silence as one might imagine but loud tones like a never ending serenade of a single chord on a church organ.
I’m not exactly complaining. I have learned to live with this and will continue to do so with the help of a very supportive community BUT it’s not helpful when some people make light of it. Our bodies were designed to use all of our senses to make sense of the world around us. When one is compromised you find yourself having to adapt or get angry. I’ll keep adapting but as a person who loves to connect to those around me on a deep level, this can definitely hinder the way.
Ps. All that being said, a day on the course is a good day and I certainly don’t let it ruin the whole thing. Life is pretty good.
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