I Can Hear You Now: Losing the Shame in Wearing a Hearing Aid

I was speaking with a friend recently who was having a problem with their parent.

"She doesn't want to get her hearing checked because she refuses to get hearing aids," the friend explained.

"What's the big deal?" I asked. "I wear one."

I then lifted the hair over my left ear to show them.

"I have lots of friends who wear them. One friend's daughter has even been wearing them since she was in elementary school," I added. "And I wear it when I pull my hair up in a ponytail, and the world can see it."

My friend reflected on this for a minute, then said, "I'll tell her."

Pull up a seat while I share a life truth with you.

Are you ready?

There's nothing embarrassing about wearing hearing aids!!!

Sorry for yelling, but this is something I'm really serious about. I want to get rid of the stigma.

Before I get more into that, let me tell you how mine came to pass. I've written before about how I have Meniere's disease. I was diagnosed with it more than 20 years ago. After trying a number of treatments, my ENT (ear, nose and throat doctor) suggested I get a steroid shot in my ear drum (they numb you first, so it doesn't hurt at all), and it went into remission for 14 years.

Until COVID-19 hit.

I woke up just before the original shutdown with vertigo that wouldn't quit. After a trip to the emergency room and a follow-up with my ENT, I got another shot in the ear. I had to get two more shots until it finally took. But I ended up getting tinnitus in my left ear — not from the shots — because, well, we don't know why.

As usual, with my body, things were weird. With Meniere's, you usually can't hear low tones in a hearing test. And that's exactly what happened when I first went in for testing during the pandemic. Now, though, I can hear low tones again. For some reason, I can't hear really high tones in that ear now.

I had a checkup a couple of months ago with my ENT, and I asked him why I can't hear high tones as we were discussing how my hearing test has been pretty much the same for years now: I get 100% with hearing words, but I can't hear the really high tones in my left ear. The hearing in my right ear is so good, however, that he always tells me that I have the hearing of a toddler in that ear. We don't know why it's so good in that one either. I just jokingly refer to it as my bionic ear.

We tried to figure out why I can't hear those high tones. Our conversation went like this:

"It is strange. Have you had a concussion or did you hit your head?" he asked.

"Um, no," I said.

"Did you have a super loud noise in that ear or did someone fire off a gun right next to you?"

"No. Neither of those either."

"It could be from a virus."

"I haven't had a virus in six years — not even COVID!" I exclaimed.

"Hmmm … that's really interesting," he said. "I may actually do a paper on your ear."

"Cool! Can I go? Wouldn't it be great for ENTs around the world to see me?" I asked, hopefully.

"Yeah, that's not how it works," he said.

Well, at least other patients of ENTs in faraway lands will one day hear of my strange condition.

When my ENT suggested more than a year ago that I get a hearing aid for that ear, I was hesitant. Then he said the magic words: "Not only will you have full range of hearing, but it may also help with your tinnitus."

I was sold!

I made an appointment with the audiologist at my ENT's office, and after another hearing test and a discussion of the kinds of hearing aids I could get and what would work best for me, I went in for my fitting, and I've been wearing one ever since.

I know that there are obstacles to getting a hearing aid. For example, they can be expensive. You also may live in a rural area where it would take a lot of travel to get to a specialist. I get this; I really do.

But if the only thing standing in your way is because it makes you feel old, you need to follow the advice of my late mom, "Cut that sh*t out!"

As the next generation of hearing aid wearers, it's up to us to get rid of this stigma. Why? Because all wearing a hearing aid means is that you need a little help to hear.

Do you wear glasses? I do. In fact, I've worn glasses since I was 18 months old. While it wasn't the norm back then, today kids have glasses in a range of colors and styles. Today I wear purple ones and sometimes I wear contact lenses — but usually if I'm driving on a sunny day and want to wear sunglasses.

In fact, wearing glasses is so "in" right now that some people who don't need them to correct their vision are donning them as fashion statements. I'm totally serious. They have clear glass in them.

So if we're not ashamed of glasses, why should we be of hearing aids? Or canes? Or walkers? Or anything to help us whether we need it for a time or for the rest of our lives?

A few times, people around my age or younger have made smart aleck remarks about my having a hearing aid such as, "Boy, someone's getting old."

My response? "My dad died when he was 37, he would have given anything to be alive and wearing a hearing aid." I've found that this one shuts them up really quickly.

Or, "If you're trying to make me feel ashamed, it's not working."

And, "Why on Earth would you say something to try to make me feel bad?"

Because, folks, when it comes down to it, this hearing aid is a gift. Although I hadn't noticed I wasn't hearing high tones, multiple hearing tests have proven it.

Not all that long ago, if people's hearing became worse, they couldn't hear. That was it. While I'm here, I want to hear as much as I can. I may have not been hearing a bird trilling high in a tree or a note that a musician played. I may have been missing out on a lot of sounds.

And I want to hear and see it all…

As Steven Tyler, lead singer of the band Aerosmith, has sung, "I don't want to miss a thing!"

Michele Wojciechowski Michele "Wojo" Wojciechowski is an award-winning writer who lives in Baltimore, Md. She's the author of the humor book Next Time I Move, They'll Carry Me Out in a Box. Reach her at www.WojosWorld.com. Read More