It's a Noisy World.... or....

Overcoming Denial.

Did you know that pneumatic automatic door closers hiss?

Or that when you scratch your head above your ears it sounds like rubbing on a fine sandpaper?

Oh, you did, huh?

Well, I had forgotten, if I ever paid attention and knew it. For the past several weeks I have been trying not to think about what was to happen this past Wednesday. Call it denial or minimizing or just plain hiding my head in the sand. But this past week I got hearing aids.

Now, I could still hear you, of course. Quite well, I kept telling myself. Unless of course you were talking normally in a crowded room or (God forbid) you were talking softly in a quiet room. It was more so if you had a higher pitched voice or the TV was a little too loud, or....

Well, that's the picture. I have mild to moderate high-end hearing loss. That should come as no surprise to anyone, especially me. I have played in concert bands for most of the last 48 years, sitting in the trumpet section, often with drums right behind me.

I have worn headphones when on the radio back in college, or to listen to music for the past 44 years. And, yes, even classical music can be too loud- say, for example, the rousing finish of the 1812 Overture.

I have gone to concerts and stood in the front row by the speakers in order to get good pictures. But even sitting further back at a Cream concert at the Spectrum in Philadelphia is still a jolt to the ears.

In short the years catch up. To everyone but me, naturally.

So, to skip the details, I was told that hearing aids would be beneficial. I got them this past week. They programmed them for my hearing and showed me how to take care of them. And I walked out into a world that had gotten much noisier in the previous 45 minutes. I heard people behind me talking, and I could understand them. I heard the rustling of my arms against the jacket as I walked. I even heard the keys in my pocket jingling. I didn't know they did that. I thought they just sat there quietly waiting for me to use them.

What a surprise. You don't know what you've been missing until it comes back. I lost it slowly and never noticed. There were still a lot of things I could hear, but I have had others returned.

It was quite a blow to my image of myself, though. Old people wear hearing aids. I was not walking around saying, "Huh?" or "what did you say?" Or was I? The amazing electronics available today in digital hearing aids is remarkable. I am stunned by what I can now hear.

Then last evening I went to my first band rehearsal since getting them. Even more amazing. At one point I could actually hear the bassoon. I always thought that I couldn't hear some of those instruments because I wasn't up front so the sound wasn't coming at me, which is true, but.... At one point I turned them off just to see the difference. The sound deadened. There was no life in it.

It is, though, a novelty at this point. I can go back and have them adjusted, like the equalizer on my stereo, so it does the best job possible. I am realizing, even after just a few days, that the ability to hear a wider-range of sounds is a "quality" of life issue for me. I have 45 days to decide whether to keep them, whether they do what I need, or whether I really am still a youngster.

But what I can't return, or actually get back to, is that young guy up there in those old pictures. The word for that has to be acceptance. Living life on life's terms as you often hear around 12-Step meetings. But you know, now that I can hear, I may actually be able to more attentive to my world and my surroundings. I may even have an increased appreciation for what I didn't know was still around me.

It's a noisy world, but it's the one I got- and for that I am grateful.