Beg Pardon?

As I repeat my request for the fourth time I feel the frustration bubbling up inside my chest. Does he realise his loss of hearing is becoming a huge problem to me? Luckily I am finally heard and the request acted upon (I only wanted something passing to me, for goodness’ sake) but my frustration takes a while to dissipate. 

The husband is a man in denial. It's the way he deals with any indication that he might be getting older.  It was the same with his eyes.  Despite the fact he couldn't read a newspaper or see small objects, he assured me his sight was fine. At some point, after eating a raisin that turned out to be a small piece of rolled play dough, he must have succumbed and secretly slunk along to the opticians.  I found him looking worried and slightly guilty every time I entered the room, and eventually discovered, much to my amusement, he was a closet glasses wearer, only donning them when alone, and swiftly whipping them off if anyone approached.  To be fair, one of the kids had spotted him wearing them and started calling him Roy Orbison, which can't have helped.

We seem to be following the same path with his hearing. The volume on the TV means that any conversation in the same room is impossible. Maybe that's his plan. I've noticed he's started putting the subtitles on every programme now, which could have been a problem with the 'closet glasses wearing' but I'm happy to say he quickly progressed to contact lenses, saving the need to whip his Roy Orbison's on and off - which must have been a great relief for him. Although the changing of the contacts only takes place once a month, it's quite an event, involving two people, two pairs of eyes (he can't see the lenses to apply them), four fingers and a lot of shouting.

Back to the husband's hearing.  Phone conversations take on a new dimension as he bellows into his mobile.  He goes out into the garden to make or receive all calls so our neighbours (at least four houses each side and the same number opposite) know every detail of Dave's life: arrangements for a drink, how he played at golf, the state of his broken arm, and probably how much his wife is annoying him.  Each time I broach the subject of a hearing test I am told in no uncertain terms, that his hearing is fine.  Actually, that's not quite true. His answer could be anything from, 'yes, it's a bit windy,' to, 'cabbage for me,' depending on what he thinks he has heard.  The hearing loss denial usually comes round about the third attempt. 

I do understand how frustrating it is not to hear properly. I've had a few episodes myself, usually mishearing something on the radio. A few years ago I spent a puzzled and indignant hour, wondering why a new law had come into force, banning stockings. It was only when I heard the next news bulletin, read by somebody with an English accent, rather than Scottish (try it) that I realised the anti-stocking law being introduced was actually an anti-stalking law. Relief all round.

My mum and dad are both extremely hard of hearing, and whilst I have a huge amount of sympathy for them it has led to some interesting exchanges. One time they were in different rooms when mum started coughing.

'What did you say, Mary?!' shouted dad from the front room.  Mum continued to cough.

'What?!' yelled dad.

Between coughs mum shouted back, 'I'm COUGHING!'

'Oh yes please,' called dad, 'I'll just have a small one.'

With a sigh, mum decided it would be easier to make the coffee dad was expecting than to continue the conversation.

I've related amusing incidents but I do know how debilitating hearing loss can be. My mum never complains but she did confess to me once that she finds it quite isolating. She wears hearing aids at all times, but when she attends her literature class she says background noise, combined with several people talking, is particularly hard to deal with.  In an effort to overcome this we managed to procure a special pen that she points towards people when they're talking in a group.  This works to a degree although we did have to explain to her why people were sniggering when she told them its catalogue name.  Answering, “It's my Roger Pen,” when asked about it was always going to cause a ripple of amusement. Since the explanation I believe the name has been dropped and it’s simply, ‘The Pen.’

As for me, I know my ears aren't as good as they were thirty years ago but maybe my inquisitiveness makes up for lack of hearing.  I can still listen in to conversations two tables away when in a restaurant, and detect the opening of the biscuit tin from upstairs.  When the TV stops sounding like an earthquake, and I can’t hear the husband sighing as I ask him to do something, then I’ll book that hearing test.  Until then, whisper on.

Secretly Listening In

What? (written specially for the husband in denial)

What?

Pardon?

Say again?

I didn't quite catch that

Huh?

Sorry?

What say?

I didn't quite catch that

Errr?

Say what?

Beg pardon?

I didn't quite catch that

I was looking the other way

My ears need waxing

You're whispering

I was thinking

You turned away

I had my hat on

I was eating

I was watching TV

Listening to Spotify

Cleaning my teeth

Running the tap

I didn't quite catch that

 My ears are fine....you what?

Jill Reidy

Thanks for reading,   Jill

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Hearing - Music is my First Love

To quote John Miles, ‘Music is my first love…’.  I grew up with ‘The Light Programme’ on the wireless, my mother’s records, usually stacked to drop in turn on what was probably a Dansette and the sound of the Juke Box filtering up from the bar below. When I’m at home the radio is always on until the television takes over for the tea time news. Later, if I have a job to do in the kitchen before bed, I’ll put a CD on, something gentle and soothing.  I can’t imagine a life without music. I enjoy the spoken word, poetry, live theatre and birdsong. I love listening to the baby-babble chatter from my grandchildren. Soon they will be speaking our language and this magical time will have passed, though some words in my family which began with my children will always remain – bagsketti and amnials are two which are still in use. Say them out loud if it helps. I’m very thankful for my sense of hearing and mostly I feel empathy towards those with hearing loss. My main bugbears are those who pretend they’ve heard when they haven’t and those who need a hearing aid but refuse to wear one for vanity reasons.

 

 

I was starting to get annoyed with someone at work when every question I asked was met with ‘Eh?’ as he cupped a hand round his ear and leaned further over my counter. For the benefit of his privacy and the protection of my throat I gave up shouting and started writing it down instead. He wasn’t impressed but we got the job done and I managed to resist asking if he normally used a hearing aid.
 

On another occasion at work I was trying my best to help someone profoundly deaf and dumb with an answer to a query on a letter he had received. This involved me telephoning an unrelated NHS admin department. The person on the other end insisted she had to speak to the person concerned, not a third party. I reminded her that this person is deaf and dumb, can’t possibly use a telephone, doesn’t have email and would like me to act on his behalf.  My request was met with a total refusal to co-operate and I’m still waiting for someone to come back to me with a suitable method of communication.
 

There are times when the sound of silence, or near silence is preferable. A wind down after a busy, challenging day is better with a hot cup of tea and the rhythmic creak of my old rocking chair with no other noise to spoil the moment.
 

That’s enough grumbling.  I should be more patient with those who can’t hear so well. After all, I have sight problems and no sense of smell, so help me out if you think I’ve left the gas on.
 

This is my poem,                                             Imagine if You’d Never Heard

 

Imagine if you’d never heard

The crashing of a stormy sea

Pounding the rocks so forcefully

A flock of seagulls swooping round

Calling and screaming constantly.

 

Imagine if you'd never heard

A newborn baby’s lusty cry

A nursing mother’s lullaby

Singing the little one to sleep

Then gentle kiss and happy sigh.
 

Imagine if you’d never heard

Music filling a concert hall

Ready to host the Christmas Ball

Waltzing and Foxtrot and Two-Step,

Roll up and join in, one and all.
 

Imagine if you’d never heard

The beauty of the spoken word

In the rhythm of poetry.

A silence that can’t be disturbed.

 

PMW 2016

 

 

Thanks for reading, Pam x                     

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