Hearing loss and dementia

It started with an eye test. The eyes are fine, they told me, and haven’t deteriorated in the past year. But would I be interested in a free hearing test?

“Fine,” I said. “Let’s do it.” You see, I have a soft corner for freebies.

I went to the next room and a young audiologist in his early thirties asked me if I suffered any hearing loss.

“Not really,” I said, “although I can’t hear the oven timer when I’m in the living room watching TV.”

I had been using this particular handicap to my advantage. It’s always my wife who pauses the TV and goes to check the pizza or whatever is in the oven. I just sit there taking the opportunity to check my phone. Nevertheless, I would wonder why she keeps disappearing. If I ask her, “Where are you going?”, she just responds with a sad smile.

“Anything else?”, continued the audiologist.

“No, except my wife sometimes complains that my hearing is going from bad to worse. But that’s because she mumbles.”

I could see a glint in his eye at the prospect of selling me some hearing aid.

“No problem. We’ll soon find out,” he said, handing me a set of headphones and starting up his computer. Long story short, I was told I had moderate hearing loss in my right ear and after further tests involving progressively quieter monologues spoken in an American accent over severe background noise, he confirmed (the glint in his eye now a steady glow) that my hearing could do with some ‘assistance’. He wasn’t using the dreaded H word yet. I knew the game was up for me. But I was not going to succumb so easily.

“So,” I interrogated him, “what happens if I do nothing? Will my hearing get worse?”

“Your hearing will deteriorate, just as mine will, over the years. However, research has shown that uncorrected hearing loss leads to cognitive impairment,” he replied with prophetic finality. He had me there. He was singing a requiem in honour of the last vestiges of my youth.

Sometimes it is better to give the impression that one has lost the argument in order to gain a future advantage- like a chess gambit.

“Do you have a hearing aid I could try? And perhaps we could repeat some tests?” I asked tentatively.

He readily agreed and inserted a hearing aid in my right ear. However, he was selective in the tests he would repeat. He wouldn’t replay the tests with the American accent but agreed to play some single words instead. I didn’t like the hearing aid one bit. There was a delay in hearing my own speech. It felt as if someone was physically carrying the words from my mouth to my ears. Moreover, the sound was tinny like a cheap old radio.

“We can see a 30% improvement,” the audiologist finally informed me pointing to his computer screen as evidence. But I had already made up my mind.

“No! I’m not having it,” I gave my verdict. Noticing the crestfallen expression on his face, I added with insincerity, “Let’s give it another year.”

I went in for an eye test and came out with visions of myself turning into a deaf, demented old geezer. That was the thought foremost in my head as I walked out of the shop. Nevertheless, I was damned if I got a hearing aid.

The audiologist’s prognosis played on my mind for a few days. But human beings are adept at getting rid of unpleasant memories and I soon managed to forget all about the hearing aid affair.

A couple of weeks later, we went for dinner with some friends. I only had a glass of wine with my meal. So inebriation can be ruled out for what followed. Back home, I retrieved my handkerchief from the right trouser pocket. That’s when I could sense there was something in my left pocket as well – a neatly folded table napkin from the restaurant!

An uncomfortable thought has occurred to me. Is the audiologist’s prophecy coming true?