The first clue was waking and not hearing the tree frogs.
I was in St. Kitts as a Peace Corps Volunteer at age sixty-two. The island nation was a tropical paradise for me, away from the wintry weather of the Pacific Northwest where I raised my family and lived in four Washington State cities.
My apartment in St. Kitts looked out onto the sea, and the huddled homes of the native population, descendants of slaves, freed from the brutal French and British colonials. A short walk took me into the capital city, where I’d enjoy the company of my peers in the local cafes. The harbor would be domineered by one or two monstrous hotels called cruise ships, disgorging their guests into the shops and restaurants.
One of my favorite features of the environment was the sound of the tree frogs lulling me to sleep with their melodic chirping. Then, one night, I awoke and couldn’t hear them. The silence startled me, until I rolled onto my other side and now could hear them. What? Oh, my, this must be why my kids are constantly telling me to get my hearing checked. My right ear can’t hear the tree frogs.
When I returned home, I sold my house to my best friend, which enabled me to buy my first hearing aid. When I put it in my ear, I burst into tears – I couldn’t believe it. Sadly, I could only afford one at that time. I would wait three years until I sold my condo to buy the second one. Did you hear me – I had to sell my homes before I could hear! That was 19 years ago, and since then, I have purchased three more sets, each one upgraded in quality and reduced in cost over the years.
Ironically, as miraculous as the transformation of my hearing is, I still ask people to repeat themselves – what did you say? You see, the aids help me to hear, but not always to understand. The issue is the difference between sound and word recognition. I have what I call “creative hearing” – you say what you mean, I hear what I wean. And here is the real deafness: loss of word recognition cannot be remedied with hearing aids. I have 40% word recognition in my right ear, 70% in my left.
Another discovery occurred while at lunch with a friend. As she spoke, she had her hands in front of her mouth, and I went deaf. I asked her if she would please lower her hands, and I realized I was now reading lips. I should say we all do, we just don’t know that until it is essential to communication. If I can’t see your face, I can’t understand what you are saying.
Hearing aids are a hazard in a group. Now the messages are coming from cross-talk conversations, resulting in laughter at times, but leaving me at a loss for the joke. The frustration at the family table would sometimes require I retire to the living room. Hearing loss puts everyone to work, as I struggle to understand, as you are asked to repeat yourself for my sake. It is easier to excuse myself from the situation. Sometimes in tears.
Fortunately, I spent my college years as a monk, so I know how to be alone, to enjoy reading, listening to music, staying in touch online. Earbuds are a godsend when on the phone or FaceTime. Also fortunately, being alone is not the same as loneliness – I am quite content in silence and solitude, now in the tropical paradise of Chacala, awakening to the brash honking of a flock of chacalacas!
Thanks for listening
Chacalaca (squawks!)
Coqui Tree Grog (whistles)
djbiviano 