Lend me your ears! Hear, hear!

For those possessed of a more enquiring mind, this month I'd like to broaden the topic of sight loss a little more. Having drifted (stoically, in my opinion) into near-total darkness, I now find myself faced with a hearing problem.

Much as it was with retinitis pigmentosa (RP), early adjustment to hearing loss is creating difficulties. I'm finding that while the white cane spoke for itself, a stock of ‘Sorry, pardon?’ is needed for conversational stuff, unless I take the hearing-aid option, which, thanks to my obstinacy, is still a hit-and-miss affair. There's apparently nothing wrong with the things themselves, but, like a lot of the gadgets purported to make my life more pleasant, they seem to add complications I don't really need.

Since I spend most of my day on my own, I don't bother with hearing aids around the house much – I don't feel the need to shout at myself or comment on the radio volume. Since, like the Blindy problems, most of the hurdles are 'out there', in a somewhat futile gesture towards putting up a fight, I often leave them at home – there's enough noise out there without amplifying it.

This theory works fine for traffic buzz but falls short when it comes to meeting casual acquaintances. With all due modesty, I think I've coped with the visual stuff rather well over the years, but with the hearing problem, chance encounters have become what PC folk call ‘a challenge'. I don't usually invite it, but I'd like a bit of sympathy on this one. Here I am, cane extended, prodding and poking along Ponsonby Road when what to me is a stranger, pops up with, “Hello, Trevor.” Casual chatter's never been my strong point and a double handicap makes things a bit tougher. Without the aids, voices tend to have a far away, genderless tone, which doubles the identification problem.

Initially I attempted to solve the issue by saying “Sorry, you'll have to speak up a bit. I'm a little deaf these days.” Apart from the odd traffic-stopping bellow, this seems to work quite well. But, like some of my theories on sidestepping sight loss, it is developing faults. Asking “Who is it?” would send a clear message that I’ve slipped another cog and I don't want that; thus, the trick is to look mildly confused. They'll usually respond with their first name. For some reason, most people think that should be enough, but I know three Johns and at least four Marys, all possessed of the same tinny voice only hearing aids seem to clarify.

I discovered a lot of people get sensitive about being forgotten, so it’s best to get the identification thing sorted as early as possible. As in the RP world, finessing 'Deafy' bluffing requires trial and error. In a perception black hole, you can't just blurt out normal stuff like, “I haven't seen you since…”, when it could well have been yesterday, or ask after the spouse and kids, when they mightn’t have either – it'll just add to the suspicion you're losing it! Most people like to talk about themselves, so the trick is to keep the ball in their court. I find if you kick off with “What've you been up to?” or “What's new?” they'll pick it up from there and the clues will come. The plus side is, much like the early stages of RP, it allows a bit of selectivity.

With partial vision I developed the subtlety of 'seeing' what I considered relevant; now, with a bit of tweaking, I can even hear the mutters of, “The old bugger's deaf as a post”, which I've decided to file in the 'Blind as a Bat’ folder. This folder also holds my acronym file created to keep up with the geeks and intellectual hopefuls who fight dirty and chuck shortened forms around like confetti. (Blindies rely heavily on words, so it’s easy to get lost when someone fiddles with the formula). I’ve made up a few of my own recently to get my own back: if I ignore you on Ponsonby Road, it’s not rudeness on my part, please regard it as SIBABDAW (Sorry, I'm Blind and a Bit Deaf As Well).

C U L8er!

Born in the UK, our ‘white-caner’ columnist, retired Dunedin antiques dealer Trevor Plumbly, was diagnosed with retinitis pigmentosa more than 20 years ago and now lives in Auckland.