
I started having hearing problems at the young age of 53, 5 or 6 years ago, a good one year after my wife started shouting at me in earnest. My diagnosis wasn’t officially confirmed until I went to the doctor’s office for some drop-to-your-knees vertigo I was having. The kind where the room spins around for 24 hours straight, and not in the good kind of way I remember from college.
A doctor confirmed that I had Meniere’s Disease, an imbalance in my right inner ear. It not only caused vertigo, tinnitus, and an equilibrium imbalance but hearing loss. Fortunately, I still had a working left ear.
Fast forward to 11 months later, when an MRI revealed a tumor sitting next to my left ear. Since the tumor was benign, the doctors were going to leave it alone and see what happened. Play it by ear (as I never get tired of saying). They didn’t want to risk a surgery that might damage the hearing even more, especially with the other ear already compromised.
Unfortunately, the tumor started growing faster and inching closer to my brain. They had no choice but to remove it. While the surgery was successful, in the process, I lost 90% of my hearing in that ear, along with my dream of becoming a tightrope walker.
I can still remember waking up in intensive care and thinking the whole hospital was whispering, and knowing that my relationship with sound would never be the same. I was also praying that they would heavily sedate me before they pulled out my catheter, but that’s another story.
Once the inflammation in my brain settled, I could hear a bit better in my good ear. The fact is, I don’t have to always wear my hearing aids, like for those times when my wife needs help removing a dead animal outside of our house. I'll never hear those words.
You’d be surprised at how much you can understand with 50% hearing in one ear. You simply have to pay attention, lean in, and look people in the eye. Sound advice for us all. The fact is, there are all sorts of lessons about hearing which I have had to learn, and I am still learning today, all of which I hope is making me a better listener than I was before.
But, let me tell you, I can hear so much better with my Signia CROS hearing aids. The technology is amazing. Someone can talk into my George Bailey left ear, and it wirelessly sends the sound to my better hearing right ear. Of course, it also means I never know where the sound is coming from, so you might see me spinning around a lot. I’m good for a laugh that way. But, I can put up with that, because these Signia CROS hearing aids are lifesavers. And, yes, I know I have mentioned them by name three times already, mainly because I am secretly hoping that somehow they will make me their new spokesperson. I have just the right touch of grey on my temples to suit their demographic.
So by all means, if you happen to see me out in the world, come on up and say hello. I can hear you fine. Unless we’re in a crowded restaurant or at a loud party, then I’ll just give you a fake smile. Don't worry; I’ll laugh at all your jokes. You’ll think you’re really funny, too. You might even walk away thinking what a great audience I am. “I’ve got to talk to Bill more often.” Of course, it’s just as likely that I laughed at your grandmother getting hit by an ice cream truck, in which case, I apologize in advance.
Now, when it comes to poor hearing, I’m not alone. Far from it. My audiologist, the gifted Spencer Tjiegen, tells me that 26.7 million people over age 50 have a hearing impairment, and only 1 in 7, a meager 14%, use a hearing aid. And when you get to 70, that number only increases to 1 in 3. Across all ages, about 28.8 million U.S. adults could benefit from using hearing aids.
I don’t know about you, but I think those are crazy statistics. I can’t tell you how many people I personally know who say they’re hard of hearing, and yet do nothing about it. I’d give you the statistics, but it would only point out how few people I know…and then you’d just feel sorry for me.
I’m not a shrink, but Spencer is, or at least he plays one in his audiologist’s office. He says outside of the cost issue, the reasons people don’t get hearing aids mostly comes down to vanity, ego, or laziness (which sums up the neglect of our physical and emotional health in a nutshell). Surprisingly, price was not the biggest reason.
Spencer says he has 90-year-olds who are worried about their looks. I say if you’re 90, you should do whatever you can to get someone to look at you. Dangle a skull bone from your hearing aids. Paint them pink.
Bottom line, we don’t always do the things that will make our lives better. It’s too much work to move past the ego and come to the point of acceptance where we realize that we could use a little help in our lives. And at one time or another, we can all use a little help. A point in the right direction. A hand to lift us up.
Unfortunately, we don’t always ask for it. And it’s not just because we don’t want to put people out. We don’t want to be seen as weak, needy, or even worse, imperfect. In short, we don’t want to reveal who we really are.
Well, that ends today! Oxygen Buzz is hereby decreeing that the days of stoicism and perfectionism are over. We don’t have to go it alone anymore. It’s time to be kind to ourselves again. It’s time to put on our symbolic—or not so symbolic—hearing aids and learn how to ask for help.
And we can begin by embracing the fact that our bodies are not what they once were. And sometimes there is nothing we can do about it. But, sometimes we can do a lot, or we can do a little that feels like a lot, or enough to make a difference in the quality of our lives. Personally, my hearing aids are game-changers for which I will be forever grateful.
What is your game-changer?
And we’re not just talking about hearing anymore. We’re talking about poor eyesight, bum hips, bad hearts, slower reflexes, a decline in memory. We’re talking about loneliness, depression, and discontent. We’re talking about anything in our lives where we need a little help. Directions to the closest Starbucks. Someone to bring soup when we’re sick. A shoulder to lean on.
And let’s be clear, asking for help is not asking someone to carry our load or take away our experiences and challenges. We’re not aiming to dump. Nobody can or should support us in that way. We’re talking about accepting help that allows us to stretch, grow, and experience the fullness of life in the best way we can at any given moment. This is an empowering act of creativity. It’s also at the core of artful living…no matter the age.
If you need help, get help.
Get your hearing checked. See your optometrist. Find a therapist, a trainer, a nutritionist. Join a drum circle. A tattoo support group. And while you’re at it, seek out family and friends (just make sure they’re the right family and friends). Let someone else do the dishes, make the meal, throw the party. You don’t have to go through life alone. Help is everywhere.
And don’t let anyone (including yourself) try to tell you that asking for help is a sign of weakness. On the contrary, it’s a sign of vulnerability, which takes courage and strength. In fact, to be alive is to be vulnerable. And to be vulnerable is to open your heart.
As the novelist, Haruki Murakami once said, “What happens when people open their hearts? They get better.”
Or as Paulo Coelho says, “The strongest love is the love that can demonstrate its fragility.”
It’s called being human—warts and all. Especially warts. I didn’t have this vulnerability when I was 21, but I’m getting it now…slowly…and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Not even youth. Or my hearing.

Vulnerability takes courage and strength…you said a mouthful there! One month away from my 77th birthday, and I’m still a neophyte at being vulnerable. You’ve given me so much food for thought right when I am questioning what vulnerability should be looking like now for me. I look forward to more on hearing: I was dragged kicking and screaming (figuratively, of course, being a reasonable adult) to get my hearing tested about 20 years ago and walked out with hearing aids. I get frustrated with their limitations, but I couldn’t live without them now.
MARTHA! (in case you didn’t have your hearing aids in)! It’s calling yourself a neophyte that keeps life exciting, along with your questioning and seeking spirit. You are far more vulnerable than you give yourself credit for. Pat yourself on the back. And hearing aids are getting better all the time (price not being a factor, which it usually is). Welcome to the journey!
It took 65 years for me to have confirmed what I already knew. I was 8 years old when I became aware that I wasn’t understanding much of what I was hearing, although I had inadvertently begun lip-reading to compensate. I complained to my parents about my problem and they quickly made a appointment with an ENT and audiologist. Their test results showed that I had a “mild” hearing loss and did not require hearing aids. At the same time, they paid little attention to the issue of discrimination which was my really major problem. They suggested that I needed to pay more attention to whatever was being spoken. Nothing more was pursued until I was in college and made my own appointment with another ENT who agreed with the first one. I gave up for the next 20 years, and again saw yet another ENT who did prescribe hearing aids for both ears. However, these were analog aids and did nothing more than make everything louder including what I couldn’t understand . I followed this route two more times over the years with the same results, so I finally just gave up. A few months ago I ran into a friend who has nearly profound loss in both ears and wears digital hearing aids. By this time my actual haring loss had progressed, and recommended that I try one more time because technology had advanced so much. I made an appointment with an ENT that my primary care physician had recommended. I first had an MRI and the results were negative. After thoroughly testing by the ENT and his audiologist They determined that I had a moderate to severe sensorineural loss in both ears and, in addition, a severe level of discrimination. They prescribed a pair of Signia Pure Charge&Go hearing aids and spent a significant amount of time programming them to accommodate my issues with discrimination. When they had completed the programming I scored 98% in discrimination. Before that my discrimination score was barely more than 45%. I left their office hearing things that I quite literally had never understood before. I a now 73 years old and my ears feel like they’ve been born again! I’ve been fortunate to have no adaptation period and wear my hearing aids every waking hour.
Bill…What a great read! Yeah, understand the strength and courage it takes to accept our imperfection and the vulnerability and sense of “exposure” we experience in sharing it with a trusted other. At 77, it continues to be an on-going effort most worthy of practice as it has added much meaning and purpose to my life.
Thanks for the acknowledgement and reinforcement of a vital human function.