Some years ago, in the late 1970s, there was a TV series called “Mary Hartman, Mary Hartman,” about a woman plagued by the waxy yellow buildup on her kitchen floor. The show was about much more than that, but it was the floor wax problem that seemed to have pushed poor Mary Hartman over the edge.

Just a couple of years ago, I learned about another kind of waxy yellow buildup, when I thought I was going deaf. Coincidentally, it was about the same time that I began receiving mail solicitations for hearing aids. And recently, I stumbled across an online article about the various causes of hearing loss. Is somebody out there trying to tell me something?

I first noticed a problem with the sound on my television set — it had become muted. But when I checked the volume level, it hadn’t changed. That same evening, when the rest of the family came home from work, I thought they were trying to drive me crazy: they appeared to be lip-syncing, moving their mouths but barely whispering. I checked my calendar to be sure it wasn’t April Fool’s Day. And then I realized that some sound was getting through to one ear, but not the other. Oh, my God! I had suddenly begun going deaf!

Obviously, I immediately set about getting a referral to a good otolaryngologist (better known as an ENT doctor — I just like to see if I can spell the big words), and made an appointment at the earliest possible time. The news was good: I had a simple ear infection . . . and an impressive amount of that waxy buildup I had laughed at when it was on Mary Hartman’s kitchen floor. A simple in-office Roto Rooter job, plus a short-term antibiotic, and I was good to go.

But age — there’s that “A” word again! — has actually robbed me of some of my previously sharp hearing, and I find myself using the closed captioning feature on my TV, and watching people’s lips as they speak to me because the sound of their voices comes through but the words are muffled. And I’ve noticed some rather interesting side effects of this circumstance — some positive, others . . . well, not so much. For example:

– Thunderstorms don’t bother me as much.

– I can’t hear the doorbell ring when I’m in my den. But the dog’s barking more than compensates; her voice still comes through, loud and clear.

– Neither do I hear the ringing of the bell when the ice cream truck comes around. On the other hand, I really should cut down on my ice cream consumption anyway — I have a tendency to be weak-willed when it comes to my favorite dessert.

– I can’t overhear other people’s private conversations, which I sort of miss . . . although I really shouldn’t.

– I frequently have to ask people to repeat themselves, which, for some unfathomable reason, they begin to find annoying after the first five minutes. Go figure.

– And I probably wouldn’t hear the blast of the horn just before the truck rolls over me and solves my hearing problem once and for all. Probably not a good thing.

For someone who used to be able to hear snow falling outside while watching TV in the living room of my third-floor high-rise apartment building (really), it is a bit frustrating. On the other hand, I still have, for the most part, all of my senses . . . except, perhaps, what I call the sixth sense: common. Never had it, never will. But I can still see, hear (for the most part), taste, feel, and smell. For all of that, I am grateful.

Oh, and in case you’re wondering why I haven’t just gone out and gotten a good hearing aid . . . have you checked out the prices of those babies lately? When Medicare decides they’re worth paying for, I’ll be first in line at the audiologist’s office.

Just sayin’ . . .

Brendochka
7/25/23