LIstening In

Listening In

I had only been on the Domestic Relations bench for a few months when an old friend and Family Law practitioner came to see me in my office. "Judge," he asked, "why do you think I always try to sit at the counsel table on your left?" I was busted.

He had noticed that I seemed to ask the lawyer on my right to repeat what he or she had said much more often that the lawyer on my left. In spite of my refusal to acknowledge it, I just wasn't hearing well when speakers were on my right. And my hearing on the left wasn't much better.

I have worn hearing aids for almost 25 years now. My hearing has declined over time and, without amplification, I have a very difficult time trying to follow a conversation. I also understand from my co-workers that my whisper is somewhat louder than I think it is. My law partner compares it to a shout!

My father had hearing problems for years before he finally broke down and saw a doctor. The diagnosis was no surprise. His hearing was deteriorating and he needed hearing aids. I was not surprised when the audiologist told me that I was following on the same path. My brother also wears hearing aids.

Last week I had lunch with a former student and old friend who told me he had worn hearing aids since he was a child. We commiserated about the uninsured expense associated with modern digital hearing aids (upwards of $5,000.00 a pair) and the sad truth that, even with the advances in aid technology, we still experienced hearing problems, especially in settings with substantial background sounds, like restaurants and social gatherings.

I have had only one serious mishap with my hearing aids. Last Spring we were in Costa Rica. After a day in the steamy rainforest, I was ready for a swim in the pool at our resort. I put on my suit, walked to the pool, and jumped in. The electronic squeal in my ears told the tale; I had forgotten to take out the devices that helped me hear. One was still in my ear – the other had disappeared and a search of the pool by me and my companions yielded nothing.

Salvation of the one remaining aid was provided by storing it overnight in uncooked rice from the dining room, which dried it out and, at least, let me hear some of what transpired on the rest of the trip. The same drying trick, I understand, works for smartphones that end up in the toilet.