By Caryl Wiebe
Sometime in grade school, my parents noticed I favored my right ear because I turned it toward people during conversations. Concerned about my hearing, they took me to an ear, nose, and throat doctor who put drops in my ears for my eustachian tubes, the passageways that connect the throat to the middle ear. This provided very little improvement, but I didn’t worry. I felt could hear the important things in my world and maintain my ability to sing a cappella with my sisters in grade school and then in choirs in high school and college.
At 18, I got married and had three children in the eight years that followed. Over time I noticed my hearing was considerably declining in my left ear, even though we were able to tour as a singing family for eight years to churches in Oklahoma and California, and even sang on the radio. I was always able to hear my family, but my husband and I noticed that it was hard for me to keep up when we were in church or in a group.
With his support, I decided to see a well-respected ear surgeon, Gunner Proud, M.D., at the University of Kansas Medical Center. Dr. Proud determined that my stapes had a calcium overgrowth that prevented its movement (otosclerosis). He had a strong reputation as a surgeon, so I was comfortable undergoing a stapedectomy, a middle ear procedure to restore hearing with the insertion of a prosthetic device.
I was dizzy after the surgery, but within three or four days it was deemed a success and I was pleased by what I was able to hear again. “I can hear the tires,” I announced to my husband. He was amused—he didn’t know what it was like to live without life’s most ordinary sounds.
I was thrilled until my hearing began to deteriorate in my left ear again. Disappointed, I returned to the medical center. Dr. Proud explained that calcium had started to grow around the plastic prosthetic "hammer" that he had inserted into my left ear. Concerned another surgery would eventually lead to the same result, he suggested a hearing aid for my remaining good ear, my right ear. I was hesitant, but I was now 30 and eagerly wanted to hear. I purchased my first of many hearing aids.
I'll never forget the first time I had my hearing aid on while giving my children a bath in our cramped little bathroom. I thought the loud noise from their splashing and kicking and laughing would drive me crazy with my aid in my ear. But I decided that if I removed it, I’d fall into the habit of removing my hearing aid in every noisy situation.
That bath was over 52 years ago, and to this day, I maintain the importance of keeping it on, especially when giving advice to older folks. Many complain that “everything sounds different with a hearing aid,” which is true—but at least you can hear!
So this is my story, no cochlear implant or anything else. I get along very well with my hearing aid and at the age of 82 I don't want to try anything different.
Caryl Wiebe lives in Kansas.
