I am deaf--not "hearing impaired" or "hard of hearing" but just plain deaf. When I was thirty-five, I had chicken pox, a surprisingly severe case of it. Twenty years later while on jury duty, I noticed that I wasn't hearing well. As far as I knew, it wasn't genetic, so when I consulted a doctor, I told him about the disease which I hadn't had as a child. He said it was probable that it was the cause of my problem. At first I thought, "So what? I'll get hearing aids and everything will be fine". I did get the aids a few years later and being of an optimistic disposition, thought that was it. I didn't stop to think that the hearing loss would continue. I am not yet profoundly deaf and the aids I have are invaluable. My condition is complicated by frequent attacks of tinnitus when I find myself in a very grouchy mood and indulge in bouts of self-pity, a ridiculous waste of time.
Being deaf is not fun but I'm lucky: I have a computer. I hear nothing if I watch TV but I follow debates, etc. by reading almost instant transcripts. I wish devoutly that I could hear Barack Obama speak but on the other hand I have never had to listen to W sound off nor have I had to hear what my family describe to me as Palin's unpleasant voice. Although the telephone is useless to me, I can communicate with absent family and friends via e-mail in a highly satisfactory manner. I can even take care of a few small business matter s this way. The computer is one of my best friends, absolutely heaven-sent.
With my hearing aids I can carry on a real conversation with one person quite well. Sometimes I can even take on two and this I enjoy. I have a hard time in public, at the market for instance. I can rarely make sense of answers to my questions and am shy about asking again. To quote Evelyn Waugh, being deaf is very "shy-making". What I miss most is not being able to take part in political discussions which in the last few years have been intensely interesting. At home, often one of the participants in these will stop to translate for me. Some of the words come through and I say "Oh, I see" but I know I get a sort of glazed look on my face and the person [one of my children] will say "You didn't get that did you, Mom?" When I'm with these people who are talking and laughing, I feel as if there's a glass wall between us and at this point I have to remind myself that things could be worse and remember that when I go back to my room and put my ear next to one of my snoozing cats, I can usually hear a purr.