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What's that you say? I only think I'm deaf?

By HOWARD TROXLER
Published November 13, 2005

In recent months it seemed to be getting harder to hear in a crowded setting. I would be sitting across the table from somebody in a restaurant, seeing their lips move but not hearing the words.

Finally, I was going through a cafeteria line with a friend one day and couldn't hear what any of the servers were saying. At each stop I had to ask my friend, "What'd he say?"

So my doctor gave me the name of an audiologist. I called to make an appointment. "What are your symptoms?" the woman asked.

I described them and added: "My wife thinks ..."

She laughed before I could finish and said: "She thinks you're not listening to her."

Apparently they get that all the time.

The audiologist put me in this little room like the soundproof chamber on an old game show. I had to press a button every time I heard (or thought I heard) a beep.

Then he stuck plugs in my ears to seal them off, bounced a bunch more beeps off my eardrums, and made me swallow some water. When you swallow water, your ears do a little shimmy-shammy that they can measure and put on a chart.

The test in the booth, which is called an audiogram, came out fine. The other stuff showed, maybe, a dropoff above a certain frequency. And he thought maybe there was something wrong with the Eustachian tubes, which are sort of a vent between the ears and throat.

"You might want to think about Eustachian tube management," the audiologist said.

I had never heard of Eustachian tube management. Nor did I have the slightest idea of how to manage them better. Inspirational speeches? A Christmas bonus?

I went home and told my wife that the guy said there might be some loss above a certain frequency, and about the Eustachian tube thing. Probably I used a tone of voice with her that sounded a little bit like, "ah, HA!"

Over the next few days I adjusted to this news. At least it was minor. Think about all the people in the world who have it worse. Think about people who are blind, deaf, unable to speak. Not being able to hear restaurant chatter is a pretty mild problem compared to that.

Still, I took to cupping an ear and asking people to repeat themselves. "Sorry," I even said to a couple of friends. "I might have a partial hearing loss."

In due course I had a followup appointment with an ear doctor for the Eustachian tube thingy. I had heard this could involve anything from drugs to sticking some hardware in there.

The doctor looked in my ears, poked around for a while, then scanned the results of the audiologist's tests.

"You're fine," he said.

"What?"

"You're fine. Your audiogram was almost perfect." He said there wasn't anything wrong with my tubes either.

"But I thought there was a little dropoff," I said.

"Very little," he said. "Look at the chart." He showed me the range considered normal. My chart line was entirely within it.

"You mean, I've been making this up?" I asked. "I swear, I've had trouble hearing things in a crowd."

He seemed amused, in a good-natured way, but only mildly sympathetic. "Listen," he shrugged, "sometimes it's just hard to hear in a crowded room."

Back in the parking lot, I sat behind the steering wheel for a couple of minutes before starting the car.

"You," I said out loud, "are an idiot." For weeks I had been cupping my ear and acting like a codger.

I had believed it, too. Kind of gotten used to the idea. Found confirmation of it in daily life. Maybe, I thought, this is why folks seem fine until the doctor tells them they're sick, and next thing you know they're bedridden.

Nothing wrong at all! This, too, took a little adjusting to.

I went home and told my wife. So far, she has not said a single additional word about it. For this, I am deeply grateful.

[Last modified November 13, 2005, 03:00:43]