Can you hear me now? Selective hearing vs. impairment

My grandfather is hard of hearing. For about as long as I can remember he has had hearing aids that mostly do not work, resulting in most conversations divulging into near shouting matches just so he can understand you. For the uninitiated, you would think he and granny were at each other’s throats when you walk in the door, but they’re just trying to figure out what’s for supper.  

He has a good excuse for his impairment, though, in a lifetime spent on a factory floor in a time when safety wasn’t first but third or fourth on the list of corporate priorities. The bright side of his impairment is that it forced him to embrace computers quicker than most people of his generation. He’s more tech-savvy than most 93-year-olds, and he can shop online with the best of them. But I think he has developed a screen addiction.

I think I’m losing my hearing, but not from holding a steady job to provide for my family. It’s from standing too close to the speakers at concerts and parties. It seems my wife’s voice is the perfect pitch and tone beyond my ears’ reception, but I digress. I’ve developed the bad habit of agreeing with someone or laughing at what is said even if I do not know what was said. It becomes burdensome to ask people to repeat themselves, and I’m beginning to have much more empathy for dear ol’ grandpa.

On the other side of that scenario are people who just ignore what is being said to them, and no one understands that better than parents, or people who own businesses and folks who work in middle management. As a former child and an employee, I know what it is like to “not hear” instructions from an authority figure. My mother calls it selective hearing, recognizing what I want to hear while ignoring the rest.

Selective hearing isn’t an acknowledged condition or disability, at least not yet. Whenever it is, I’m certain to qualify for a handicap parking decal, because my household is rife with it (and I never grew out of it apparently). My kids never hear me say to clean their room or do their homework. Just like I try not to hear them when they ask me to buy something.

Famed composer Beethoven lost his hearing at 28 years old. He went on to craft some of the world’s most beautiful and recognizable symphonies, never hearing it fully for himself. What if he was faking? What if he just got sick of listening to folks and he sat down at his piano?

Hearing is a commodity not to be taken for granted. There will come a day when I’ll miss repeating commands and being told, “I didn’t hear you,” or waking into my grandparents’ house and hearing them shout at each other from different rooms.

I need to be a better listener from now on.