Family
How I Finally Grew to Love My Hearing Aids
For years, I had resisted getting them.
I had no idea what I was missing by putting off getting hearing aids. Hearing aids — there, I said it loud and clear. I’ve known for some time that I have hearing loss.
Television volume was set to 94, but I still relied on closed captioning. I was reading lips, not always well. I counted on facial emoji to decipher the difference between “that’s great” and “you’re late.” I was exhausting the patience of my husband, who grimaced whenever I looked expectant and said, “Sorry, what was that?” I accused him of mumbling, but nicely. My hearing loss was gradual, manageable and doing something about it just didn’t feel necessary.
I realized my hearing loss was worse than I thought when I went with a friend to see the Tony Award-winning play “To Kill A Mockingbird” on Broadway. I was thrilled that we’d snagged fourth-row orchestra seats, but during the intermission I complained that the actors weren’t projecting.
My friend looked at me in astonishment, then led me to a booth at the rear of the theater where hearing devices were available. What an incredible difference! I could hear every word of the second act. I had no idea what I’d been missing, but years went by before I could be bothered to make an appointment with an audiologist.
I’m an actress, adept at “faking it,” but began to realize that no one was fooled by my rapt attention and nodding head when I hadn’t a clue what was being said. I became aware that I either hijacked a conversation so that I was talking instead of listening, or retreated into silence because I couldn’t keep up with the flow.
Dining in restaurants was torture when ambient noise drowned out anything the person across from me was saying. I knew I was exasperating even the most patient among my friends by constantly asking to have something repeated.
Still, I resisted getting hearing aids. Why? I had hip replacement and cataract surgery without hesitation, although both procedures are far more invasive than stuffing a device in my ear. There’s no pain, anesthetic or physical therapy involved in getting hearing aids, so why did I keep putting it off? Because they’d make me feel “old?” I have silver hair, a more obvious sign of aging than wearing a barely visible hearing aid. Cost? Medicare doesn’t cover hearing aids and they can be darned expensive.
My moment of reckoning came when I was referred to an ear, nose and throat doctor for an ailment that led to a hearing test. I was diagnosed with “moderate” hearing loss, but declined getting hearing aids until the doctor pointed out sound reasons (pun intended) why they were necessary.
There are any number of studies, including one conducted by the National Institutes of Health in 2025, indicating that seniors with hearing loss stand a greater risk of developing dementia and are prone to depression. Cognitive abilities (including memory and concentration) decline faster in older adults with hearing loss. The longer I “managed” my hearing loss, the more difficult it would be to adjust to hearing aids later.
I recalled that my mother was my age when she got hearing aids. As cumbersome as they were in her day, she was so grateful to be able to amplify sound that she became an advocate for hearing aids, even taking a job as a receptionist at a hearing clinic. But my recollection of my mother repeatedly tapping her ear as though “testing 1-2-3” and then going through a laborious process of changing batteries may well have influenced me negatively. How different the technology is today — no batteries, and I can control volume and multiple other functions through my smartphone.
I’m now able to hear my husband, although he indeed mumbles. I hear birds chirping and leaves rustling. I also hear myself chew and nearly jump out of my skin when our Airedales bark. With so much buzzing, humming and clattering going on that I couldn’t hear before, I’m discovering that we live in a very noisy world. I’m learning to adjust to that, too, because it means I’m no longer missing out on anything. In fact, I’m coming around to being an advocate myself.
My friend Pamela, who doesn’t mind wearing eyeglasses or using a walking stick, refuses to get hearing aids and scolds me for “not speaking up.” She insists she can’t wear hearing aids because her inner ear canal is too small. After a quick check online, I thought I’d solved her problem. “You can get fitted with small Receiver-in-Canal (RIC) or Behind-the-Ear (BTE) hearing aids with custom-made earmolds,” I told her. Then, practically shouting, I was forced to repeat myself.
“Hmm, I’ll have to look into that sometime,” she mumbled vaguely, “or you could just try speaking up!”
I haven’t given up on her yet.
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