That's Me In the Corner, Losing My Hearing

I noticed a while back that my husband was beginning to mumble. Then I noticed that T.V. shows were starting to be a lot quieter than they used to be--I had to turn the volume up higher and higher. When I went from the waiting room to the wrong doctor's office because I thought the aide had called my name, I was ready to concede that there might be a problem--but something small and fixable. After all, I'm only 45. Then the Ear, Nose, and Throat specialist--and later an audiologist--told me that not only did I have permanent hearing loss, but that it was more severe than I had thought. "You'll need amplification," the ENT specialist told me. After a second, I realised this had to be the new term for hearing aids--possibly coined so baby boomers wouldn't have to feel like their grandparents. Hearing aids, in the plural: one in each ear. "Will you get them?" my husband asked. "No!" I said. "I'll manage, but I'm not wearing hearing aids." A hearing aid, by whatever name, made me feel like my grandparents just by thinking about it. After a few days I came to my senses and ordered them. I also started telling others to let them know that not only was I having trouble hearing them now, but that they would have to bear with me as I learned how to wear the hearing aids. Fortunately, everyone was supportive, although I was startled by some of the comments I received. More than one person responded to my announcement that I was losing my hearing by saying, "Really? How could you tell?" I contemplated saying, "The colours haven't been as bright." I go in for my "learning how to use the hearing aid" session tomorrow. Sigh. Age and decrepitude.