I’ve been thinking about “hearing” today. Obviously, I’m not busy enough with the “Planning and Organizing” I’m supposed to be doing this week.
When I’m hand stitching, my mind always works overtime, and I took the time to sit down and finish the binding on a large quilt this morning, so off it ran without me . . .
And I got to thinking about my grandmother . . . my mother’s mother . . .
In her last years, her early 80s, she got fairly hard of hearing. Not bad enough to have to wear a hearing aid, although she did toy with the possibility that, however embarrassing that would be, she might have to give in and get one if things got much worse, because she did not want to be like her sister, Ruth — Heaven forbid!
(She made it to the age of 85, and passed away without ever having to wear a hearing aid, bless her wonderful heart.)
Her sisters, Ruth and Ruby, are both in their 90s now, and extremely hard of hearing. Ruth has worn a hearing aid for years.
Now, while Ruth is a very sweet and loving lady, she is also quite a self-centered individual, having been the spoiled child in her family her entire life. She’s also one of those people that you cannot simply ask “How are you?” without her going into long and vivid detail about all her latest hypochondriacal ailments. My father says he’s never seen anyone so healthy have so much wrong with her!
I can’t tell that her hearing aid is providing any actual aid, either, and sometimes it’s quite uncomfortable running into her in public situations. For example . . .
I saw her awhile back at the funeral home, a relative’s visitation. Naturally, she spoke to me, and then when I answered, she couldn’t hear me, and wanted me to yell my answer right there in the funeral home! I wanted to sink into the floor . . .
But it’s funny now, looking back . . .
And someday, I’ll probably be like that. Hard of hearing, and expecting people to shout at me, while refusing to admit that I might need a hearing aid.
When my youngest daughter was born, she had very dark hair, but over her left ear, she had one shock of blond hair. Quite random, really. I thought it made her unique, and it was beautiful. But . . . her pediatrician advised me to “keep an eye on her, because that can be a sign of a hearing impairment.”
He even gave me an example of a famous person who has that shock of white hair over his left ear, and has a hearing impairment, although now I can’t remember who it is. Evidently, being hard of hearing is not the first ailment I’m going to have to deal with in my old age!
The only signs of hearing impairment my daughter has ever exhibited, however, are when she doesn’t want to hear what I’m saying. You know, that selective thing . . . tuning out your parents because they don’t know anything.
And then my train of thought traveled through junior-high town, and brought to mind a funny incident from when I was in 8th grade.
There were only 8 people in my entire class (very small school), and we were all sitting in history class one day, and one of the girls whiningly says, “I don’t know why we have to take those stupid year-end tests.”
One of the boys pipes up and says, “I don’t either. I can hear like a dog!” You can imagine the fits of laughter the entire class went into, with various ones inquiring as to whether his dog was deaf.
And why would I remember such a random thing? And why would my thought train be traveling that track on this particular day? Who knows? And still . . .
Someday, I’ll probably be like that. Hard of hearing, and expecting people to shout at me, while refusing to admit that I might need a hearing aid.
That is, unless my memory totally gives out first!
This never happens to any of you, does it?