ADVENTURES IN WONDER EAR LAND

I Love the Sound of My Own Voice

But not amplified by my new apparels auditifes

Wikimedia Commons

Hear Ye, Hear Ye, Hear Ye. I’m being ironic. For those who’ve followed my hearing loss saga, today was an introduction to my first set of hearing aids — or appareils auditifs as they’re known in France. I dragged my friend Gwyneth along with me, little knowing how long she’d have to sit waiting.

Hours. First, a discussion on the comparative merits of a basic pair — the total cost covered by the French government and private insurance. Then, the next step up, newer technology and rechargeable batteries, but with out-of-pocket costs of around 2,000 euros. From there, stratospheric costs for gold-plated appareils auditifs that could sing, dance and run the vacuum cleaner.

I opted for the no-cost pair with batteries I’ll have to change every week. For now, at least. I’m wearing them as I write. As long as I’m not talking and no one is talking to me, it feels pretty much as though I have earbuds in. Probably looks like that too. The aids are small, disappear inside my ears, and my hair covers the plastic ear loops.

I’d been warned to expect difficulties at first. What I hadn’t been ready for was the sound of my voice once the aids were in. To my ears, it had the amplified mechanical sound of someone talking through a microphone. The audiologist grinned when I described it. The aids are microphones; they amplify everything, including your own voice.

It will take some getting used to, he said. I was doubtful. Maybe if I gave up speaking altogether and just listened. I know a few people who would be quite happy with that, but it didn’t seem like a workable solution.

The audiologist made some adjustments on the computer. By the time he’d reduced the sound of my voice to a level I could, possibly, live with, he’d also reduced the hearing improvement by 50 percent. Not great, but as I get used to wearing them, he will increase the volume.

By the time Gwyneth and I went to lunch in Pezenas, I’d had the aids in for an hour. I could hear almost everything she said, but to say I’d grown accustomed to my voice would be pushing it a bit. Then, as I ate lunch — baked camembert, salad and pommes frites, a new auditory sensation. I could hear the masticating sounds of everything I ate.

Gwyneth looked at me. “Are you ok?”

I shook my head. The noise of a French fry I’d just eaten was like footsteps on a pebble beach. Eerie, like improvised sound effects. For this scene of a killer stalking his victim, we need the sound of. . . Janice eating French fries while wearing her hearing aid. Footsteps behind me, footsteps all around me. I stopped eating, and the footsteps stopped. Then I ate some melted Camembert. Still on the beach, but now with lapping waves. Another French fry and the pebbles returned. More cheese, more lapping waves.

If sound effects accompany all my meals, it could turn me off eating entirely. Great for weight loss, but between that and not talking, my social life might cease to exist.

Driving home, the appareils auditifs snugly in place, I probably heard most of what Gwyneth said, but moving my head slightly seemed to lower the volume for a few seconds before the sound returned. The audiologist told me to write everything down for next week’s follow-up appointment. By then, I might have written a book

Right now, something is buzzing around my head. I know it’s a small fly because small flies were buzzing around my head yesterday. And the day before. But based on the amplified buzzing produced by my appareils auditifs, the buzzing could be from a gargantuan killer fly, a Guinness World Record Book fly. I’d be terrified if I didn’t know better.

So as Day One of Adventures in Wonder Ear Land draws to a close, I feel tired and slightly dispirited. Would a glass of wine help, or will each sip sound like Niagara Falls? Tomorrow, I have a French group, and I’m already dreading how my struggles with Molière will sound amplified.

Stay tuned. Pun intended.