Jeff Switzer Hearing Instrument consumer

Hearing loss is present in ten percent of the general population. As we age the incidence of hearing loss increases. By age 45, that statistic is 20%. Some 3.3 million Canadians have hearing loss but only a small fraction of us help ourselves by wearing hearing instruments. Why is that you may ask? The answer lies in our own reality of hearing loss. Read my story to find a parallel in your own experience.

As a very young baby, I contracted spinal meningitis. Meningitis is most often extremely debilitating for one’s hearing. For whatever reason, call it fate, the illness left me with a moderately severe hearing loss in only one ear. As a child this hearing loss went undetected. One good ear allowed me to develop normal speech and language skills. It wasn’t until one Christmas when I received a transistor radio with “one” earphone that I knew my hearing wasn’t “normal”. I can still remember the look of disbelief on my father’s face when I told him “if you put that earphone in my right ear I can’t hear”. I was at the audiologist’s office the next week! As I discovered, having hearing loss in one ear was not normal, however, living with it was normal.

During the early 1970’s, it wasn’t common to fit a unilateral loss, thus, I managed with the hearing I had. I excelled scholastically and socially as a child and young adult but the growing social demands of a young adult began to frustrate me. I found myself withdrawing from social outings (especially if they took place in noisy settings such as restaurants and nightclubs). If I went with friends to such establishments I often felt like I was “alone in a crowd of people”. I simply could not hear well enough to interact easily. Still, I was successful in many other regards and didn’t fully recognize the impact of my hearing loss on me.

I thank the recession of the 1980’s for encouraging me to return to university. It was a skills matching test that “matched” me with the field of audiology. My hearing loss just made it more interesting.

It was while at university that I was encouraged by my professors to try a hearing aid although I didn’t think I needed one as I didn’t have a hearing problem. (Step number 1—admit you may have a problem!). Considering I was going to help others with hearing loss I thought I should begin by helping myself.

The day the hearing aid arrived (Step number 2—do something about it) I was very excited but also very apprehensive. I vowed to grow my hair long to hide the little device. I didn’t want anyone to think I was helpless (not to mention old). With a lot of encouragement and support from my fellow classmates and professors I entered an entirely new world of sound formerly unknown to me. I didn’t know that the little plastic tips on your shoelaces made a noise when they hit the leather of your shoes when you walked. What about that strange noise I heard when I peeled an orange? Since when did clocks tick? Stereo sound? I could pinpoint the direction of a sound source. And why was sound so full? I was used to flat and lifeless. If my father could have seen my face I am certain he would have seen the same expression on my face that I captured on his 30 years earlier. Yes, disbelief. And yes, 30 years of living in a flat and uninteresting world. That first day with my new hearing aid I felt a new appreciation for soup and grilled cheese at lunch because it came with an engaging conversation. I was no longer alone in a crowd of people. Today, it is a rare occasion that I let MY world of sound slip away from me by not wearing my hearing aid. I even proudly display it by sporting a short hair cut (Step number 3—tell everyone about it).

I encourage each of you with hearing loss (c’mon, you know who you are) to take the first step. Admit you may have a problem and that help is at your fingertips. It only gets easier from there. Who knows, you may even try a new haircut!