Been There, Done That: Nine Decades And Counting By Alice Herb: I’m not Stupid, I’m Just Deaf

By Alice Herb

I am dead tired of people rolling their eyes and looking exasperated when I ask them to repeat what they just said. There is no proper response. Mine usually is, “I’m sorry that I’m hard of hearing, but I live with it 24/7, while you only have a short conversation with me.” If I ask for several repeats, I get a slow agonizing iteration in simple terms, to which I will usually say, “I am not stupid, just deaf.” Neither of my retorts is friendly or kind, but it is hard to explain how frustrating it is to me. Deafness or near deafness is a hidden disability, and few people are tolerant or patient enough to deal with it. A lot is written about deafness, but little about what it feels like to be hard of hearing. I would like to share with you what it is like for me. 

At 92, I could have expected some broken parts, needing some replaceable or repairable parts, and some that just could not be fixed. As such, I have accepted the pain of sciatica and arthritis, but the one pain I cannot fight is losing my hearing. I went to the Met last week to see and hear Fidelio. Beethoven, himself, would understand how painful and frustrating it was not to be able to listen to his glorious music sung by superb voices without static and other electronic interference. What made it worse for me was that the production was itself static and the staging and costumes depressing. I have always been grateful that I have not lost my eyesight. Although I no longer have the precise and clear vision I used to, I can still read without glasses. And my eyes have always been my most precious sense! Yet the symphony halls are no longer viable since the music is distorted and the spoken words are almost indecipherable, despite up-to-date hearing aids and the theaters’ own hearing devices. But I still have dance that I can enjoy. I am still grappling with a device that makes my TV usable and a new radio that I thought would bring back my daytime companion. So far, no real change. I don’t hear people calling to me in the street. I have trouble talking to tradespeople. I don’t always hear what is said on telephone calls. And many people simply avoid me.  

What is most frustrating about not hearing is the interaction with other people. I have acquired all the most up-to-date assistive devices for my hearing aids, but even those do not fully restore hearing. I have badgered my audiologist enough so that he has finally explained to me that restoring my hearing is impossible. Unlike vision, hearing is far more complex, and technology has not nearly overcome the loss of hearing. Cochlear implants regain hearing, but that requires surgery that restores some but not all hearing. At my age, I am not willing to submit to surgery, no matter how benign. 

So we are back to people. Loss of hearing is, without question, a real disability. The young and the otherwise busy people are strikingly unsympathetic. Actually, it is not necessary to hear everything that is said, but if I am to reply, I ought to be able to be properly responsive. I now have a small microphone that I use when I talk to one or two people. But a restaurant is challenging, what with the loud music and most diners trying to talk louder than those at the table next to them. Parties or meetings with multiple people talking to each other are virtually impossible. The future seems pretty dim as my hearing has recently deteriorated, and it is only going to get worse as I get older. My one hope is that smaller but better hearing aids are constantly coming on the market. Upgrading too quickly, however, is not wise, as these less-than-perfect devices are very expensive and insurance coverage for new ones requires a 4 to 5-year wait.  

Not wanting to be completely negative, there has been one wonderful advantage. A new subway station and tracks are being constructed under my building. In addition, surface traffic of cars and trucks, fire engines, and ambulances has been relocated from a major cross street to my block, and the noise is unbearable. But when I remove my aids, there is almost total silence, I can calmly go to sleep. But I’ll gladly give up that certain advantage to get my hearing back.

I do tell myself that I am so lucky to be mostly healthy, to have the means of getting the most up-to-date information and devices. I should not complain. I cannot feel sorry for myself. With the mess the world is in right now, I am still living in a more or less happy bubble, but let’s try to educate our family and friends to be a bit more patient with those of us with hearing loss and make life more pleasant!

Alice Herb is a retired attorney, journalist, and bioethics consultant. Having reached the age of 90+, she’s more than ready to share her experiences and opinions with agebuzz readers. Want to comment on something she’s said? She welcomes your feedback at [email protected].

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