This is a topic I’ve touched upon before. Julie and I did an episode on batteries and have a picture of us with our hoods up. (Something that Julie’s cavalier attitude towards drives me absolutely batty!) But today I wanted to expand upon the things I need to do to take care of my bionic ears. 

The Good

I only sleep with one set of ears in. Since I sleep basically in the fetal position, having my bionic ears in would mean I’m pressing one against my head. My biologic ears have gotten used to the constant pressure of having the moldings jammed in there. So they don’t actively hurt anymore. But increasing the pressure on my ear by having a pillow smoosh the molding deeper does actively hurt. 

So I take them out.   

I’m not sure if there are any hearing aid users out there that sleep with them in or not. So if you do, please comment! 

I take out my aids when I get into bed. I used to just put them on my dresser. But when I wake up I have all the coordination of a drunk elephant. I’ve dropped them trying to accomplish the incredibly complex task of picking them up. So now I put them in a case. For whatever reason the added cognitive load of having to open the case made me more careful. 

When I got this set of bionic ears, I upped my game. 

Between sweat and weather, there’s a dang good chance that some water had invaded my bionic ears over the course of the day. To help counter this, I put them in a dehumidifier. It’s called a Looney Bin because it’s got a drawing of a loon on the outside. True story. Inside is a plastic container with desiccant beads. Through the magic of science the beads draw out any water from the aids. When the beads turn a deep green that means they’ve lost their magic touch. To re-magic them, I pop the container in the microwave for 30 seconds and, abracadabra, they’re amber again. And ready to do their thing. They last many months.  

The good thing about this is I can do it myself. I’m like a toddler that way. I hate having to ask for help. Which brings me to the bad thing.  

The Bad

The tubing that connects the bionic bits of my aid to the plastic molding isn’t something I can take care of myself. The aforementioned sweat and weather cause this soft plastic to expand and contract. Over time the elasticity lessens, causing the plastic to harden. The harder the plastic gets the harder it is for sound to travel the plastic tunnel to my ears. This happens gradually. It’s the aural equivalent of death by a 1000 cuts. Even though I’ve had bionic ears for 20 years, and know the tubing needs changing after 6 months, I still forget.  

When I remember, I email my audiologist to set up an appointment. 

At the appointment, Chris takes my bionic ears and goes off into another room to work her magic. I sit in her office aidless and listless. It’s so unnerving to be anywhere without my bionic ears. Hell, I usually keep my aids in until I go to bed. There’s no reason for me to have them in when I’m home. But it’s become such a comfort that I keep them in. 

She does give me privacy by closing her door. With the door shut I can’t hear even the murmuring of the office staff. Which helps set aside another habit: active listening. If I hear someone speaking, I instinctively strain to make out what they’re saying. Even with my aids in, I can’t make out much. Without them? Forgetaboutit.

Eventually, Chris comes back. 

Depending on the state of my bionic ears, she could be gone quite some time. One end of the tubing hugs the horn of the aid. It’s actually easier to separate when the plastic is harder. The other end of the tubing is glued to the molding. While I’ve taken the tubing off my aid off myself (usually to clean the molding) I’ve never taken the tubing out of the molding. Not intentionally. Sometimes the glue loosens on its own and it pops free. Trying to reseat it correctly is impossible and I’m left with sudden bursts of feedback as the sounds of the world leaks out the loose connection. I’ve never actually seen Chris remove the tubing from the molding so I don’t know how she does it. 

Anyway, back to Chris.

She holds the aid in one hand and the molding with the new tubing in the other. She places the latter in my ear and notches a spot on the tubing where it peeks above my ear. Everyone’s ears are different so she can’t pre-cut the tubing or else there’s a chance I’d end up with bionic ears seemingly floating on the sides of my head. She cuts the tubing at the notch and puts the aid on. Then repeats with the other ear. It’s an amazing feeling, new tubing. The world comes alive and I realize how degraded my hearing had been. 

The bad isn’t so bad. Not if I’m being a grownup about it and accepting the fact that I need help. But I want to circle back around to a parenthetical thought. The ugly is cleaning the moldings. 

The Ugly 

This is a necessary ick.

With the moldings literally jammed in my ear, there’s nowhere for the ear wax to go. So it builds up and eventually creates problems for the moldings. I used to have angular vents. The vents were two tunnels; one that connected to the tubing and the other that connects to an outer hole to the outside world. Both tunnels ended at an inner hole nestled in my ear. When the problem advanced sufficiently, it would leave me reeling. The inner hole would become blocked, shutting off sound from the tubing and airflow from the outer hole. It made me deaf and dizzy because both the sound and the airflow was blocked. 

Now I have parallel vents. There’s one tunnel through the molding that handles the sound traveling from aid to ear. There’s another tunnel that travels from ear to, well, air. The same problem of plugging still applies but it’s not all-or-nothing. For whatever reason, the air hole seems to get plugged before the hear hole. When it does I have a little tool that came with the aids. It’s a little pipe cleaner. It fits in the tunnels and clears things out. That’s it on the right. You can also see that it comes with a sheath. And on the top of the sheath is a magnet. It’s to help change the batteries. My fine motor-skill are on par with a toddler (I’m a lot like a toddler now that I think of it!). But so far, I’m able to fat-finger the batteries without this help. 

This is something I have to do weekly. Thanks to a curve in my right ear’s canal, water can get trapped and causes a bigger build up. And sometimes I have to use debrox to dry things out and help the wax move along. Such is my icky lot in life. 

Good, bad, and ugly, 
Thus is the care of my aids.
Some things can’t be rushed.