A Final Thought: What?
Marriage, misheard words and the realities of getting older together.
A popular joke among those of us with a bit of hearing impairment goes like this: A husband is concerned about his wife’s hearing, so he decides to give her an informal hearing test. While she’s sitting on the sofa watching TV with her back to him, he stands at the far end of the living room and says softly, “Honey, what’s for dinner?”
There is no response. The husband moves to the center of the room and says a little louder, “Honey, what’s for dinner?”
Still no response. He finally steps up right behind her and whispers, “Honey, what’s for dinner?”
His wife turns around and says, “For the third time, we’re having meatloaf!”
Okay, it’s a little dated, but so am I.
Once we hit age 60, my wife and I both started experiencing hearing issues. Typical responses to each other’s questions are now:
“What?”
“Say again?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop mumbling!”
Recently, while watching yet another British murder mystery, my wife remarked about one of the characters, “She’s a magician.”
“I don’t think so,” I replied. “She’s a real estate agent. What makes you think she’s a magician?”
“I didn’t say magician. I said she’s suspicious.”
“Mumbler.”
“I heard that!”
So that was it. We finally agreed to schedule a hearing exam—with a twist. We would go to the audiologist together, and whoever had the worst hearing would have to buy lunch. Regardless of the results, it had been a long time since we’d had a hearing exam, and it was important for each of us to establish a baseline so we could monitor our hearing loss over time.
After arriving at the hearing center and explaining our little contest to the audiologist, I asked whether slipping him a twenty would improve my odds.
He shook his head no.
Now that’s a response even I can hear. That’s because body language and lip reading both help a lot with communication. Until recently, I hadn’t realized how much I’d come to rely on lip reading. When my grandsons are in the backseat of my car, talking about some trendy Gen Alpha thing and not looking at me, it’s impossible to hear them:
“Poppy, when we get home, can we play robots?”
“Robots? Sure. I. Am. Very Good. At. Talking. Like. A. Robot.”
“No, Poppy. Not robots. Roadblocks.”
“Roadblocks? How do you play that?”
“Not roadblocks. I said Roblox! It’s a video game.”
Kids these days.
Finally, after sitting separately in a soundproof booth, listening to beeps, reciting words, and repeating phrases with increasing background noise, we found ourselves in the audiologist’s office, prepared to hear the results.
“Let’s start with Mitch since he went first,” the audiologist said. “If you look at his chart, you’ll see that he—”
“Just tell us who won!” my wife interrupted, obviously anticipating a sound victory (pun intended).
“Well, it’s not that easy,” the audiologist replied. “You both have moderate to significant hearing loss, but in different ways, so it’s not possible to say who won. I’m afraid it’s a tie.”
A tie? We had not considered that.
My wife and I walked away with mixed emotions. We were concerned that at age 64 we were both already “in hearing-aid territory” but we were pleased that after 42 years of marriage we were on this journey together, and that no one had to be a loser.
At lunch—we split the check.
Recent Posts
RELATED ARTICLES
