|The day of arrival|
A Hearing Aid? Boy Stop Playing
I recently avoided a big fall. I A few days ago when I was getting dressed to give a lecture I suddenly felt dizzy. I’d been having these little dizzy things off and on and I figured I was just tired, but I was ignoring the obvious signal that my body was sending.
I have had a high pitched sound in my left ear for months. At first it was faint, coming and going from time to time; no big deal or at least that’s what I kept telling myself. I know better, but knowing and doing are as different as night and carbon dating testing.
The siren in my ear kept getting louder and the off and on became a constant. I had nightmares of having to have brain surgery and then trying to remember my own name.
Fear can keep you from taking the most rational steps to wellness; creating a self-fulfilling prophecy by keeping you from the care you need.
The sound got louder and louder and I noticed that I’d been tripping for no apparent reason. Then this week when I put on my favorite shoes, a wedge heeled strappy number that gives me height and comfort, I literally fell over.
The sound in my ear was screaming for attention and I looked down at my shoes with sadness. When they do the operation can I keep the shoes? I wondered.
I decided to wear my clunky airport loafers; a second hand pair with a peace sign on them. I was comfortable and wouldn’t have to worry about falling over. The shoes didn’t go with my wonderful silk dress but I decided that I didn’t care and when I did, I knew that I had arrived.
Years ago, I was on a book tour for my first novel, Redemption Song and I ran into the poet Sonja Sanchez at a television appearance. I wore a Donna Karan suit and a pair of shoes similar to the ones I put down this week. She had on comfortable clothes and shoes and was absolutely radiant. She called me a beautiful soul but all I could think of was getting out of that suit.
“I will know that I’ve arrived when I’m that comfortable and beautiful.” I told myself. That day came this week, but my body took me there before I was ready to go.
While I was still in the airport, on my way back home I called my doctor’s office to make an appointment. He was able to see me the next day.
What I heard made the vanity hairs on my neck stand straight up.
“You have lost the high pitch spectrum of your hearing.” My doctor told me after giving me a hearing test.
Dr. Cobb was smiling his beautiful I’m-going-to-tell-you-something-and-you’re-not-going-to-like-it-but-everything-will-be-okay smile as he hit me with the next punch.
“You’re probably going to need a hearing aide.”
I looked at him in disbelief and said, "Boy, stop playing.”
He laughed and told me that the high pitch was my mind literally making up the tone that my ears were missing.
I was torn between fascination and the idea of trying to get a date while wearing a hearing aid.
“ But I hear just fine.” I told him and he smiled that angelic Southern smile, looking as if to say, “How would you know?”
Dr. Cobb gave me the name of a vitamin which he said only worked for only 30% of the hearing loss population and told me that if it did work, it would take a month.
I ran to my salon appointment because I always feel better after I spend time at Pierra’s Salon. When I told the beautiful women there of my dilemma they made me feel better by mouthing a conversation that no one could hear and making me laugh so hard that I forgot that I was upset.
When I left, I went to the grocery store pharmacy (I love my small town) and got the Lipo-Favonoids and learned that they were both popular and expensive. The pharmacist said that they must work because she had been selling quite a bit.
I had been told not to expect anything right away but I must be one of the lucky few. Within an hour of taking them, the ringing stopped and I realized that Dr. Cobb was right; I had no idea of what I’d been missing. That single high pitch that sounded like one big dying florescent light bulb ringing in my ear was gone and I read in silence for the first time in months.
I hope the vitamins keep working but just in case, I’m getting myself ready for a dark brown hearing aid. I may even put rhinestones on it.
What truth is your vanity keeping you from?
Be well, be you, be True.
Bertice Berry, PhD.