I went the ear nose and throat doctor today. I’ve been to a lot of ear nose and throat doctors in my day. Not so much for the nose and throat, but for the ears. I am hearing impaired, have been for years. Remember when those motor home things would pull up to your elementary school and give you a hearing test? I was the kid that always had to stay in the motor home after the rest of the kids left. Eventually I just learned to cheat in order to avoid the humiliation of being asked to stay. And yes, there are ways to cheat on a hearing test. They’re running the operation out of a friggin motor home, obviously this isn’t Harvard Medicine-quality research going on here.
Unfortunately after awhile it became obvious that my hearing, or lack thereof, was worthy of a visit with a doctor who didn’t have a bumper sticker on his office. So I was kicked off the hearing bus and sent to the hearing chamber – a little sound-proof room with stuffed animals. I imagine the stuffed animals were there to distract from the overall “insane asylum” feel of the room, “I know you’re only 7 years old, but we’re going to lock you in this room with padded walls and give you orders over an intercom. Want a teddy bear and some candy?” They always gave me candy. That was great. When you’re young and cute and impaired in some way you can always get candy out of adults.
Over the years the candy and teddy bears slowly disappeared from the testing rooms. But the tests were always the same. There’d be sounds, beeps, tweets, eechs, brrrrmms, and rrrrrffffpppphhhs. I’d raise my left or right hand and always wonder if they kept record of how many beeps I acknowledged that weren’t even there. I’m in a padded room, eventually you start hearing things. My favorite part of the tests are the, “Say the word ‘cow’”, “Say the word, ‘bellhop’”, “Say the word ‘claustrophobic in a tiny room’”. The person giving you the test is sitting outside the room, on the other side of a window. When we get to the “Say the Word” portion of the show the tester covers up his or her mouth, which pisses me off EVERY time. Dude, I’m hearing impaired. I can’t understand what you’re saying if I can’t read your lips.
Last time I was in the room I told the lady that I would be very happy if she’d throw some cuss words in the test. You have to remember that I’m about 40 years under the median age of most of her patients. By the look on her face, I’m thinking I might have been the first one to make that suggestion. I’m definitely the first one to actually give some various word suggestions. All in the name of medicine of course.
A few years ago I finally got hearing aides. I’d actually gotten one when I was in high school, but I was too self-conscience to wear it. I wasn’t too self-conscience to not be able to understand what anyone was ever saying to me though…oh the logic of teenagers. “They can see my hearing aides, but they can’t see that I can’t hear them – so I’ll just stay deaf.” I probably should have been tested for brain impairment too.
So I finally got the hearing aides and it was a miracle. It was amazing. It was priceless. Well, actually it was $5000. None of it covered by health insurance. Doesn’t really seem fair, right? But whenever I want to I can take my ears out and turn off the world. To sleep, to concentrate, to ignore. Mostly to ignore. That probably doesn’t seem fair to you poor hearing people, huh? So see, fairness is spread out.
Having $5000 worth of equipment on your head does make you a bit weary though. I don’t like having a body part worth that much money. And if you add in the 2 grand my parents spent on my braces and the few hundred dollars I’ve spent on my glasses – not to mention the $100 every six weeks on my highlights…I’ve got a very valuable head. And I haven’t even had any face work done yet.
So my current primary care physician was terribly concerned with my lack of hearing, said I really need to go see the ear nose and throat doctor. There could be a significant reason for my hearing loss. You could have a tumor or something, he said. Since elementary school? Right. I’m hearing impaired, I’ve accepted it and moved on. If I have to sit in one more padded room…they are going to have to put me in a padded room.
But I gave in to his concerns and booked an appointment with the ENT doctor. The ear doctor looked through my file as we spoke. A huge pile of hearing tests from the 80’s to present day. We’re talking, we’re conversing, he’s YELLING.
“I have hearing aides.”
“Oh! I’m looking at your chart here and I couldn’t figure out how you were understanding anything I was saying.”
“Microphones. In my ears.”
“Oh, yes, those will help. Well, from what I can see you’ve got some severe hearing loss.”
“You don’t say.”
“I don’t think there is anything we can do surgically.”
“Alrighty then.”
“But you should probably get another hearing test.”
“Of course, I can’t tell you how I was hoping you’d suggest that. Cause I really have nothing better to do with two hours than reconfirm my hearing loss.”
So back to the room I go. I don’t care if I’m old, I’m getting a piece of candy or someone is getting hurt.
Say the words, “Pain in my ass.”
Unfortunately after awhile it became obvious that my hearing, or lack thereof, was worthy of a visit with a doctor who didn’t have a bumper sticker on his office. So I was kicked off the hearing bus and sent to the hearing chamber – a little sound-proof room with stuffed animals. I imagine the stuffed animals were there to distract from the overall “insane asylum” feel of the room, “I know you’re only 7 years old, but we’re going to lock you in this room with padded walls and give you orders over an intercom. Want a teddy bear and some candy?” They always gave me candy. That was great. When you’re young and cute and impaired in some way you can always get candy out of adults.
Over the years the candy and teddy bears slowly disappeared from the testing rooms. But the tests were always the same. There’d be sounds, beeps, tweets, eechs, brrrrmms, and rrrrrffffpppphhhs. I’d raise my left or right hand and always wonder if they kept record of how many beeps I acknowledged that weren’t even there. I’m in a padded room, eventually you start hearing things. My favorite part of the tests are the, “Say the word ‘cow’”, “Say the word, ‘bellhop’”, “Say the word ‘claustrophobic in a tiny room’”. The person giving you the test is sitting outside the room, on the other side of a window. When we get to the “Say the Word” portion of the show the tester covers up his or her mouth, which pisses me off EVERY time. Dude, I’m hearing impaired. I can’t understand what you’re saying if I can’t read your lips.
Last time I was in the room I told the lady that I would be very happy if she’d throw some cuss words in the test. You have to remember that I’m about 40 years under the median age of most of her patients. By the look on her face, I’m thinking I might have been the first one to make that suggestion. I’m definitely the first one to actually give some various word suggestions. All in the name of medicine of course.
A few years ago I finally got hearing aides. I’d actually gotten one when I was in high school, but I was too self-conscience to wear it. I wasn’t too self-conscience to not be able to understand what anyone was ever saying to me though…oh the logic of teenagers. “They can see my hearing aides, but they can’t see that I can’t hear them – so I’ll just stay deaf.” I probably should have been tested for brain impairment too.
So I finally got the hearing aides and it was a miracle. It was amazing. It was priceless. Well, actually it was $5000. None of it covered by health insurance. Doesn’t really seem fair, right? But whenever I want to I can take my ears out and turn off the world. To sleep, to concentrate, to ignore. Mostly to ignore. That probably doesn’t seem fair to you poor hearing people, huh? So see, fairness is spread out.
Having $5000 worth of equipment on your head does make you a bit weary though. I don’t like having a body part worth that much money. And if you add in the 2 grand my parents spent on my braces and the few hundred dollars I’ve spent on my glasses – not to mention the $100 every six weeks on my highlights…I’ve got a very valuable head. And I haven’t even had any face work done yet.
So my current primary care physician was terribly concerned with my lack of hearing, said I really need to go see the ear nose and throat doctor. There could be a significant reason for my hearing loss. You could have a tumor or something, he said. Since elementary school? Right. I’m hearing impaired, I’ve accepted it and moved on. If I have to sit in one more padded room…they are going to have to put me in a padded room.
But I gave in to his concerns and booked an appointment with the ENT doctor. The ear doctor looked through my file as we spoke. A huge pile of hearing tests from the 80’s to present day. We’re talking, we’re conversing, he’s YELLING.
“I have hearing aides.”
“Oh! I’m looking at your chart here and I couldn’t figure out how you were understanding anything I was saying.”
“Microphones. In my ears.”
“Oh, yes, those will help. Well, from what I can see you’ve got some severe hearing loss.”
“You don’t say.”
“I don’t think there is anything we can do surgically.”
“Alrighty then.”
“But you should probably get another hearing test.”
“Of course, I can’t tell you how I was hoping you’d suggest that. Cause I really have nothing better to do with two hours than reconfirm my hearing loss.”
So back to the room I go. I don’t care if I’m old, I’m getting a piece of candy or someone is getting hurt.
Say the words, “Pain in my ass.”
No comments:
Post a Comment