Okay, it’s time to fess up. I had a hearing test last month, and I have minor to moderate hearing loss. In other words, I’m Hard of Hearing.

So what exactly does that expression mean? Google says it was common from the 15th century until the mid-19th century to use “hard” with all kinds of difficulties, e.g., hard to learn, hard to sleep, hard to conceive. The term hard of hearing is the only one to carry over to the present.

I decided to have a hearing test for two reasons: my husband’s frustration when I don’t hear him speaking to me from the next room and my difficulty in hearing my fellow poets at a poetry workshop last July. Granted the room was huge and some people read very softly, but I felt I missed too much.

An audiologist at my ear, nose, and throat doctor’s office administered the test. She led me into a tiny soundproof room with a chair in the middle. I sat in the chair. Headphones and a few other alternate types of hearing test devices hung on the wall in front of me. First she probed each ear to determine their health. Then she handed me a button on a cord and asked me to just push the button when I heard a sound. She then shut the door and went to her desk in the room opposite mine. I could barely see her through a small window.

She began to play sounds going from high to low into each ear separately, and I pushed. She also gave me two word tests. In the first I repeated the words I heard, as her voice got softer and softer. In the second she spoke in a normal voice – easy I thought. For example, she said the word “beg.” My right ear heard “big” and my left ear heard “beg.”

Although the tests show I still have considerable residual hearing, my doctor suggested I get a hearing device to raise my hearing level to normal, and he recommended a place to buy one.

Now another confession. I decided immediately that if I’m going to wear a hearing aid I want it to be invisible. I didn’t want the over the earlobe kind because I wear my hair pulled back in a ponytail most of the time, and I didn’t want all that paraphernalia to show. When I told the hearing aid expert what I wanted, he felt I was totally off base – that I cared more about what people would think than the service the hearing aid would provide. He said the invisible kind would give me a plugged up feeling if my ear canal was too small and would make some sounds seem too loud.

I told him he didn’t understand my thinking – that wearing a hearing aid reminds me yet again that I am old.

I even tried one of the behind the ear devices on, but I didn’t change my mind. After going back and forth many more times, I got ready to walk out the door. The prices were high, and he wasn’t willing to sell me the kind of device I wanted.

Then he backed down. He suggested one hearing aid so that both my ears wouldn’t feel plugged up. I relented and he made a mold of my ear canal. Lo and behold, he said I had enough room. Plus he agreed to find a real tiny one to fit. Now why couldn’t he have said that in the first place? He must have feared he would lose a sale – a really big sale.

I ordered an inside the canal hearing aid for my right ear and went back to get it two weeks later. And guess what? It works and fits perfectly without making my ear feel plugged up. Plus my hearing aid specialist said that my success taught him a huge lesson – listen to and not argue with a woman about the kind of hearing aid she wants to get.

Madeline Sharples is an author, poet, and web journalist. her memoir, Leaving the Hall Light On: A Mother’s Memoir of Living with Her Son’s Bipolar Disorder and Surviving His Suicide (Dream of Things), is the harrowing but ultimately uplifting tale of the course of years from her son Paul’s diagnosis with bipolar disorder, through his suicide at her home to the present day. It details how Madeline, her husband, and younger son weathered every family’s worst nightmare.

She also co-authored Blue-Collar Women: Trailblazing Women Take on Men-Only Jobs (New Horizon Press), a book about women in nontraditional professions and co-edited the poetry anthology, The Great American Poetry Show, Volumes 1 and 2 (Muse Media). Her poetry accompanies the work of photographer Paul Blieden in two books, The Emerging Goddess and Intimacy as well as appearing in print and online on many occasions.

She is currently working on a novel and writing articles for several websites. Visit her website: http://madeline40.blogspot.com.