Man, when did things change so drastically? I remember when I was in school I could listen to the radio and study at the same time. Nowadays, I find myself turning the car radio down so I can read the signs while flying down the highway. (David's driving, of course. I don't fly. I saunter or meander. Don't honk at ME!) When did I lose the ability to remember my own name if there's ANY noise that I can hear? And this is from someone who spends a great deal of her day shouting "Huh?" or "What?" at David anytime he opens his mouth. I'll throw in a few "I can't hear you('s)" just to change things up.
In my defense, he tends to mumble–a lot. YES, he does. He'll start strong then taper off. When I ask him what he just said by shouting "What?" so he'll hear me, he'll repeat himself in the exact same way. For example, he might say "The softball girls just made an amazing triple play and scored mumble, mumble, and now they're mumble, mumble, mumble.” I'll look at him and say "What?" and he'll say the EXACT SAME THING in the EXACT SAME WAY. "I HEARD the first part," I shout, "What did you say at the end?"
I have discovered that if I don't make sure I have his full attention before I start talking he will not respond. It used to hurt my feelings because I assumed he was ignoring me. Now it just tics me off. He either doesn't hear what I said or he's pretending he doesn't so he can ignore me. I don't know for sure yet which it is but I'll find out one of these days and POW, BOOM, he's gonna regret it. I'll nag him 'til the cows come home. LOL (And we don't have any cows so you know how long that'll be.) But here's the kicker–if I'm talking to myself (Sometimes one needs an expert opinion, doesn't one?) he'll say "What?" to me! He can't hear me talking to him but as soon as I'm talking to myself suddenly he's a buttinsky and interested in what I have to say.
I don't know which is worse–losing my hearing or my eyesight.
I've found myself standing inches from the television trying to read the words on the screen. If that fails, I'll turn on the closed captioning option but you didn't hear that from me.
I swear the snot-nosed whippersnappers who run things these days are using size four font on purpose to drive us seniors crazy. And when did everyone around us get so dang young? The weatherpersons in our area look like they should be out on the playground swinging instead of chasing bad weather.
I'm not comfortable getting medical advice from "Doogie Houser." What's he know from our aches and pains? If I need advice for acne then he'll be the first one I call. It's the same with our pharmacist, our nurse, the tech I have to depend on to help with all my electronic devices, and the fella running the local car garage.
Things I never thought we'd own: A blood pressure monitor complete with two cuffs; one for normal arms and one for mine. One of those little things nurses stick on the end of your finger to measure the oxygen content in your blood. A water pic to replace the floss I can no longer work. A thermometer that never touches your body. Just aim and shoot. Our children no longer believe I possess the ability to kiss their forehead and tell them their temperature. It worked on them for 20 years. When did they get so smart? A thing with a handle that I can latch onto jars and bottles with to get the dang lid off that they must have been tightened with an air impact lug nut wrench. An extra tall commode so we don't have to squat so low. Safety bars in the bathroom that David installed for someday when we'll need them to get off the extra tall commode. A subscription to AARP just for the discounts (and the magazine David reads). I signed David up for it when he turned 50 as a joke. The joke's on me I guess since I use it more than he does. But then again, I'm the one who has to use the coupons and ask for the senior citizen discount or a military discount for him.
I swear we're just one step from a nursing home. No, thanks. I'd rather be a burden to our kids. I figure we raised them for 18 years so they owe us 18 or until we're pushing up daisies, whichever comes last. Har! Har!