Thursday, July 19, 2012

What to wear - and NOT wear - on the other side of 60

It would appear that I’ll soon have the entire ensemble of a genuine card-carrying old geezer.

In a couple of weeks I’ll be addressing a young lady who’ll smile, call me by name (likely the formal old person’s “Mr. Frischkorn” with “Jeff” also possible), and then escorted into a windowless room. There’s the nice young lady will stick something in my ear and attach it to an electronic sound amplifier.

Isn’t that a much more nicer term than “hearing aid?”

Okay, so my wife Bev has been pestering me for more years than I can count about the need to install an electronic sound amplification device into my left ear.

Up until now I really haven’t been listening. And not just because my overall hearing is some point downstream from the 50-percent mark.

Those “things” makes a person look old, and I suspect at least initially, makes one FEEL old, too.

And I feel that way already. I’m taking more medicinal tablets than I care to count, I’m going to undergo treatment in September for prostate cancer and my glasses are bifocals, for crying out loud.

Shoot, I’m even wearing suspenders. And I don’t give a thunder if I wear a striped tie with a patterned shirt or if that tie is tainted with splotches of aged mashed potato gravy or dried blood from when I nicked my neck during shaving.

Oh, and I wear boxer shorts instead of briefs. Take that, Michael Jordan.

Nope, and I am to the point where being required to use a cane while walking in civilization or a hiking staff when afield now comes second nature to me.

For that matter I now look for a handicapped parking spot just so I can raise the placard flag that was awarded to me by the Department of Motor Vehicles following the required recommendation of my family doctor.

But wearing a hook-behind-the-ear electronic sound amplification device? I don’t think so.

At least not until after a July 12 meeting with a hearing specialist. She put me through the ringer during a thoroughly rigorous 2 1/2-hour evaluation of my hearing and as it relates to balance.

Margie was - as always - kind, humorous and friendly. She also verbally poked, prodded and jabbed me on the need for an electronic sound amplification device.

These tools have come a long way, Margie said, from the days of clunky models that stuck out one’s ear further than those belonging to President Obama.

Thing is, she’s correct. So is Bev and our daughter, Rebecca. So is, for that matter, everyone else who has pestered me for these, oh, so many years.

Yes, my hearing is shot. I don’t know what a cricket sounds like nor can I hear the notes of a warbling song bird.

And it’s not entirely my fault. Blame the aging process for some of it, of course. And in my youth I should have worn better hearing protection on the skeet field.

However, lay the vast majority of the hearing loss to a bout with rubella, which used to be called “German measles.”

That infection happened more than 55 years ago when I was five or six. It destroyed my right ear’s ability to detect most ranges of sound, especially the higher ones.

Which means that the right ear cannot be salvaged. The left one can, though, and this is the ear that one of Margie’s accomplices will attempt to bring up to par.

So I will go through the hoops, sit and have a thing or two stuck into my ear. I guess I’ll also try out a few models, each of which will be of the variety that hangs in back of the ear.

It seems that with the type of hearing loss that I have an inside-the-ear electronic amplification device would offer more feedback than a heavy metal rock band’s sound system.

One of the uncomfortable parts in all this is that whatever I do choose to buy - and that step is not certain by any means - the money will have to come out of Bev’s and my own checking account.

The reason being is that almost no insurance plan - not even under ObamaCare - pays for electronic sound enhancement devices.

At anywhere from $1,200 to $2,000 that’s going to be a pretty serious blow to our collective wallet.

Unfair? You bet, but it is what it is.

However, I guess if it will bring me peace at home, help me to hear the soft rush of the wind or the gentle notes of a whip-poor-will then the expense may prove beneficial.

Besides, no one can say that I actually have to turn the (sigh) hearing aid on.


- Jeffrey L. Frischkorn
JFrischkorn@News-Herald.com
Twitter: @Fieldkorn

Friday, July 6, 2012

Is it ever OK to say "no" to love?

The reaction to well-meaning folk who strongly opine on what I need to do in seeking medical advice and assistance runs between a half loaf of frustration and a half pint of resignation.

No offense to myself but I knew it was coming. I just was a little surprised on how pervasive the need is for others to try and put their best foot forward only to watch them stumble and fall with their good intentions.

Which - as I've ever so often instructed my wife  - is what the road to you-know-where is paved with.

Way back nine or 10 months ago when my seriously painful and chronic joint inflammation sent me to seek answers from one specialist after another, the unsolicited advise started to trickle in. Then it came a little more steady, the way a heavy shower does where the windshield get splattered with a few drops just before  when the wipers can't keep up.

I understood what and why the not-so-professional and free advice was coming from. It was love all packaged up in the person's way of saying that this worked for me and therefore it will work for you.

Alas, no two snowflakes are ever perfect matches. And neither are medical treatments. We are all uniquely made and thus we all can expect some fine-tuning whenever a physician or teams of physicians get to treating you.

Besides, in my case things were becoming more and more baffling. Consequently, the treatments were becoming more and more a thickening brew of various combinations of tests, consults and medicines.

It was a thoroughly agrivating case of stumping the doctor. That is, unless you happen NOT to be a doctor. Then you can dispense whatever medical advice/knowledge you wish; for free and without any worry of be found in violation of the law for doing so without a license. Much less sued for malpractice.

So when the nice little old lady stopped Bev and me after church one Sunday and urged me to look into this and that medical device/treatment/drug we - as pleasantly as possible - smiled, nodded our heads, and expressed something of a surprise about something we all ready knew.

And then we kept the next doctor appointment, no less the worse for wear.

Things became more contorted when I became diagnosed with prostate cancer. Oh, make that much more distorted.

Opinions, advice, personal histories -  which including those of friends and loved ones who had complications or nasty side effects - flew from every corner of this New Age of instant communications.

Bev and I were told that this was going to happen, that people genuinely want to do right and see that you come out on top. More than a few web sites that deal with prostate cancer cautioned us that this would be so.

Thus, whenever I received an email, telephone call or general post letter I didn't just dismiss them outright.

That is why I checked out everything from exotic and cutting edge proton and neutron radiation therapies available pretty much only in Texas to chowing down on a daily basis so much fresh asparagus that by doing I'd have put a serious dent in the availability of that vegetable.

Of course, had the recommendation been broccoli then I would not have contained my patience, that vegetable and me not being on speaking terms.

There was the time as well when one unsolicited opinion came in which the communicator opined that my specialist's partner was not a very good doctor and so I should consider myself  fortunate not to have chosen him.

But like all of the other offerings I accepted this piece of misplaced advice in the spirit in which it was given. That person thought  enough of me and my health that the individual wanted what was best to help ensure a long, prosperous and healthy life.

So, no, it is never OK to say "no" to love.

But there are times when it's best to say nothing at all.

- Jeffrey L. Frischkorn
JFrischkorn@News-Herald.com
Twitter: @Fieldkorn