Pardon Me?

My husband recently ordered a hearing aid. Wearing it this week, he and I were headed to breakfast when he asked, “Where is that clicking clock?”

“You mean the turn signal?” I said.

Not funny. But true.

Operating noisy, outdoor equipment for thirty years in his career as a landscaper/groundskeeper, my husband is nearly deaf. He started working at an early age, back before bosses realized how important noise cancelling headphones were to protect hearing loss.

Add to that a stint as a scuba diver in his twenties when he ascended too fast from a deep dive, shattering his left ear drum, his ability to hear is almost non-existent.

Conversations can be amusing.

Me: “Will you help with the groceries?’

Him: “Why did you buy a pear tree?

Me: “Is that new mouthwash tolerable?

Him: “What’s wrong with Netflix?”

I could go on, but you get the idea.

Pleas for him to try hearing aids fell on deaf ears—literally. He tried a couple of local companies with no success. It didn’t help that our elderly neighbor had expensive hearing devices, but was constantly plagued by dead batteries and whistling. Often he couldn’t hear any better than my husband.

Seating the two next to each other at dinner provided great entertainment. One would say something and the other would respond with an answer totally out of context. They’d keep this up for the better part of an hour—happily unaware.

The deciding moment came one afternoon when I suggested buying a white board where I could write my questions down. At least his answers would be in response to what I needed to know.

He took exception to my idea and immediately began surfing the internet for help. He found one device online that appealed to him. When it came he tried it out. I don’t think he realized how little he could hear until the turn signal proved itself.

Will he keep it?

Stay tuned.