Hearing Aid abuse

 

 

For the past three months I’ve had new, fancy hearing aids.  They fit in my ear, but are paired with a kind of necklace which is paired with a microphone the size of my thumb.  This technology also comes with a cord that I can attach to my computer or any electronic device and then plug into the necklace I’m wearing, so that the speech goes directly to my hearing aids, rather than blaring through the entire room where I am working.  Bob and Dave, my dog,  are grateful.  This equipment will also pair with my IPhone, so that when receiving a call, I simply push one of the necklace buttons, and voila, the caller goes into my hearing aids.  Well, not literally.  The caller’s voice travels there.

But like all equipment I tend to abuse it.  Years ago my husband took our vacuum to a repair shop, and the repairman said, “Someone’s been abusing this vacuum.”

I draw the line at children and animals and contain my mistreatment to machines.

Yesterday I was giving it to the vacuum again, tearing all over the house to pick up the bagfuls of dog hair before my Wednesday night writing group arrived.  As I whipped it along the carpet to the hardwood floor of our bedroom and out into the hall, I realized the vacuum had sucked up a few innocent cords, belonging to my recharging hearing aid necklace and mic.  When I finally retrieved them from the jaws of the hungry machine, I found that the vacuum had eaten up the small handle that allows the mic to latch onto someone’s clothing while they speak to me.

I told my husband the only solution is for me to give up vacuuming.  I don’t think he agreed, but maybe I didn’t hear him.

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About Sally Hobart Alexander

Blinded at the age of twenty-six, I left California and elementary school teaching for life in Pittsburgh, Pa. There, I met my husband, got a Masters' degree in social work, had two kids, now 35 and 32, and became a writer. Surprisingly, the writing career led me full-circle to teaching, and I teach in Chatham University's M.F.A. program and lead two writing critique groups. Always, since the age of 26, I have traveled, not in the stereotypic darkness attributed to blindness, but a mist. My blog then, "traveling through the mist" will deal with issues in my culturally different life as a blind writer, teacher, speaker, and human being.
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