Tower and Town, March 1980

Facing Deafness

In 1952 I was provided with a Madresco hearing aid. I was 42 and had for five years been fighting against oncoming deafness, diagnosed Osteo-sclerosis. Deafness was hereditary. My children were 12 and 14.

The aid was cumbersome, with a satchel for batteries to sling over my shoulder. Fortunately I could afford to ease the situation, and purchased a self-contained battery aid to wear under my blouse. I had to hear, and learned to eliminate the rustle of clothing on the microphone.

Being young, I was able to adapt to a trying situation beyond my control. I kept up my tennis, leaving my aid in the pavilion.

In 1963, both ears now affected, I had the Stapes Bone removed from the right ear, to let in more sound. It was unsuccessful, and the resultant head noise almost produced a nervous breakdown. I was advised to have an aid fitted to that ear also, to drown the noises and to balance my hearing. This proved beneficial. Only distorted hearing resulted, but it was a boost, gradually clarifying over the years, and warning me of the approaching car, it probably saves my life at times!

Now my hearing loss is about 80% and when I remove my two aids at night my husband can no longer communicate with me.

A hearing test proves that there are some notes in the scale which I do not hear: hence there are voices of a certain pitch which do not register. Aids differ; one may help my particular need where another is useless. The National Health aid is good: I have the behind-the-ear type and use it daily. It is however, not strong enough for use in church, and I have purchased a really powerful aid for special needs.

My deafness can be as frustrating to others as it is to me: it is important that I hear. My aids are now so much a part of me that I do not know that I have them on.

It is not easy getting used to them; it is not easy accepting a mouthful of false teeth, but you persevere because you dislike the look of yourself without them. Similarly your friends will find you trying if you do not hear, so you must persevere.

Deafness would make a recluse of me if I let it. A stay-at-home, avoiding people because of the fear of looking silly. I find the answer is to be useful, keeping myself in circulation by being needed. You do not need to listen when you are doing the washing-up!

Nevertheless, I could wish that people would speak a little slower, a little more clearly; not to shout, of course, but to allow for the extra concentration needed.

HIlda Knight