Too Late Now, But I Wish I’d Had More Patience

A lot of things about my mum drove me crazy, especially her resistance to hearing aids

My mother, myself

I can still see her now, still feel my frustration. My mother, desperately wanting to understand what I’d just said to her, wanting me to believe she’d heard what I’d said to her while both of us knew she hadn’t understood a word.

“Where are your hearing aids?” I’d ask. With a sigh of resignation, she’d reach for her handbag, always beside her wherever she happened to be, and make a great performance of finding the little hearing aid box, opening it, removing the hearing aids, and fitting them into her ears. Inevitably, I’d hear a low whistle indicating the batteries needed changing. Since she couldn’t hear the whistle, she’d insist that the ‘bloody things never work anyway, and all that money . . .”

“I can hear you, Janice,” she’d insist. “You just lose your temper with me.”

I’m sorry, Mum. If only we could have both been 81 at the same time, I’d have understood. I wouldn’t have lost my temper. Well, I might have done. That one time after I’d shopped for food, cooked and served your dinner and you looked at me and said, “You know what I’m grateful for, Janice?” I waited. “I’m grateful for my front door. It looks lovely now it’s been painted.” I let it pass, but developed a twitch under my left eye. Stress.

Today I dragged my friend Gwyneth along with me for my first post hearing aid appointment. It’s been ten days since I received the devices. Instead of being in my ears, they were nestled in their little box inside my bag.

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The trial period has not gone well. Eczema in my left hear under the ear bud, my lack of dexterity which turned replacing the battery into an ordeal and depression at the thought of fumbling around with them every morning, never quite sure if they were in correctly.

Today, I poured out all my frustration to the audiologist. Enough negative feelings about the hearing aids and I know what will happen. He smiled and nodded. “You’ll stick them in a drawer and forget about them.” Exactly.

I told him how I regretted that I hadn’t been more understanding with my mother. I suspect if she’d had a sympathetic audiologist willing to work with her — and, more importantly, if she’d been willing to make the effort, things might have been different.

Fortunately, I do seem to have found a sympathetic and knowledgeable person and, despite a discouraging first week, I’m determined to persist. Today, he made a mould of my ears to create a better fit for the hearing aids and, for the eczema, new less allergenic earbuds.

If you can hear me, mum, I’m sorry it’s taken so long to understand what you went through. What goes around has definitely come around. And it’s not a barrel of laughs, is it?