Mentally Considering Signs of Aging

In yesterday's post, I wrote about scenes in the waiting room at the hospital.  This evening I think I'll use the blog as a decision paper, and write about the reason I was there.  Once more, I'll let my fingers do the thinking.

Over the past year, maybe two, my hearing has seemed to deteriorate.  I can hear, but it is sometimes difficult to understand exactly what is being said.  At my last appointment with my primary care physician I asked for a referral to audiology to get my hearing checked.  Yesterday was that appointment.

The tests confirmed a loss.  It's not severe, but it is bad enough that a hearing aid would help.  The audiologist explained my options for a hearing aid, including costs.   The technology available in hearing aids is remarkable, and they are much less visible now.  She explained that the type of loss I am experiencing doesn't require the very highest technology available.  Hearing aids aren't covered by insurance, and they are not inexpensive.

The costs bother me.  Marrianna has assured me that we can afford it, but I wonder whether my degree of loss justifies that level of expense.  But for me there is more to the decision than the cost.  There is an emotional cost too.  For me, a hearing aid is a sign of aging, and even though I know that I am about to enter the last year of my sixth decade, I don't feel old.  Wearing an aid would somehow be admitting that I am.

I've been considering this all day.  It wasn't until late this afternoon that I realized the truth and emotional impact of that admission.  And that realization embarrassed me.  I thought I had kept the decision process to pure facts, cost, benefit, type of aid, etc.  When the idea that a major part of the decision was going to be emotional, I just felt completely ignorant.  Of course, I'm about to be sixty-nine, and there is no valid reason for me to allow a hearing aid make me feel old.  I either need the aid or don't (do), can afford it or not (can), and have the family agreement of whatever decision I make.  Those are the only facts I need.  So why am I unwilling to just make the decision and move on in life?   I can only lay the blame on vanity, and my unwillingness to honestly face being old.

Age is more than a state of mind, but six decades does not mean old.  Suddenly I am at a point that I have to recognize that there may be certain restraints.  I'm not in atrocious physical condition.  At the gym today, I walked two miles on their track in 30 minutes, 30 seconds.  That isn't great, but I couldn't have done it this time last year.

Now, even after having bored any reader who has waded through this post expecting a decision, I have yet to make up my mind.  I don't want to wear a hearing aid, but I want to be able to understand people talking and hear nature's creatures.  I know I can do alright without one, but I believe life would be much more comfortable with one.  Now, all I have to do is what the Nike commercial says, "Just do it".

Thanks for listening.

Comments

Having worn two, high tech aids for about ten years now, just do it is the best advice I can offer. My main problem at nearly 82 is when I forget to put the things in my ears after washing my face and go out in the world unable to understand much of what is said to me. That is more apparent to those around me than the fact that I do or do not have the aides in my ears.

Mac