I went in yesterday to get my five-year-old hearing aids cleaned and checked out.
Each one has two microphones: behind and inside the ear. Turns out the inner one on the left was slowly dying.
Well, now I knew why I’d made that appointment, good to know. They ordered a new one made and told me to come back in three weeks when it gets in.
It wasn’t till I got home and had conversations with family that I knew I should be able to hear in the rooms we were standing in that I went, Wait. That’s not a left-aid thing only, something’s way off. Everything sounded tinny and quite faint.
I sent them a note: when they were testing the programming, could it be that they didn’t get them set back to the correct ones?
Yes it could. They were apologetic and set me up to come back; the last slot on Friday was the earliest they could squeeze me in.
I find myself realizing just how good these aids normally are and what a difference they usually make. It’s been an interesting lesson in appreciation.
And man, I wish I knew where I carefully put my old set so I wouldn’t lose them as backups. (No worries, Mom: the ones I had my audiologist set up for Dad was the previous-previous pair.)