Huh? Wud ya say?

As sad as it is to admit, I have become "that person."  You know the one; the person who drives for miles with their turn signal flashing because he/she can't hear the clicking that reminds said person to turn it off.  I can't hear like I used to.  I don't know how it happened or when it happened, but if I'm honest with myself, it has happened.

Years ago at the dinner table, little Reba answered everything said to her by twisting her ear towards you and saying, "Huh?"  After she did it about five times, her mother asked her what she was doing.  She replied, "Being Pop-Pop."  We broke into laughter.  My dad kept asking what we were laughing about because he hadn't heard her.  When we told him, he was mad.  According to him, he could hear just fine.

I used to feel that way.  My hearing wasn't bad.  Other people just spoke too softly.  We all know that middle school students mumble every word they say, right?  It's not my fault I can't hear their questions and answers. Surely there is something wrong with my television.  Sometimes I can barely hear it, even though I have the volume raised to the highest level.  Can't tell you how many times I've been on the phone and had to tell the service reps to speak up, how can they expect to help people if we can't even hear them?  My car radio makes me jump when I start it for the first time in the day.  It is so loud, I immediately turn it down.  No, I can no longer hear a lot of what I need to hear.  I can hear the stuff I don't want to hear like somebody snoring in the next room, the neighbor's stereo, my sister's alarm clock(that, by the way, she sleeps through), or the cat that screeches all night.  Why is that? 

I've thought about hearing aids.  Friends of mine have invested in them.  But frankly, they often "forget" to wear them, or the background noises render them ineffective, or the batteries are dead.  I can't stand the thought of something in my ear;  it makes me itch.  I guess the next generation will have it easier.  They will most likely make the switch from ear buds to hearing aids very fluidly.  And, with the way they listen to loud music, I predict they'll be making this switch in their thirties rather than my generation's sixties.

I often pretend to hear people when I haven't a clue as to what they are saying.  Sometimes I know I've answered incorrectly because of the puzzled expression on the listener's face.  Other times I just smile and nod and hope that does for an answer.  With people I'm close to I say things like, "Dammit Dee you know I can't hear.  Speak up!"  Reading lips and cupping my hand behind my ear are two methods of compensating for my handicap.  I'm not accurate with the lip reading.  And people laugh at me when I make Dumbo ears with my hands. Sigh, I know it will only get worse.

So, I reach my sixties knowing that not only do my knees hurt, my ears are failing. The next time some rude person says, "What are you, deaf?" .... My answer will be, "Yes, you want to make something of it?"  That is, of course, if I hear them in the first place.