I stretched my arms out as I came to, reaching skyward as I rose from a deep nap on a lazy summer Sunday afternoon in Maine. In my post slumber haze, I retrieved my right hearing aid from its storage spot on my nightstand, clicked the battery door closed, and shoved the mold into my ear and waited (impatiently) for it to spring to life. I then repeated the routine with the left hearing aid, a process so automated it requires no thought.
And then it happened.
The dread of every behind-the-ear hearing aid user.
The Cracking of The Tubes.
In complete bewilderment, I stared at the palm of my hand, marveling at the sight of my sparkly pink mold seated next to the machine portion of my hearing aid which was still attached to a section of plastic tubing, which connects the two components. Without that connection, the hearing aid is unable to function at any capacity. I paused as I was not quite yet awake, and in my fogginess reasoned that this was a matter of the fully intact, connected tubing just slipping out of the mold as opposed to a complete fracture.
It was not until I went to push it back in, that I realized I had A Major Situation.
The tube had cracked in half, leaving me with a hearing aid rendered completely useless.
Always the humorist, my first thought was, “Huh. Well, we did name our company ‘Down the Tubes Productions’ for a reason”.
My second thought was a string of expletives because I was in Maine, on a Sunday afternoon, far from my audiologist who would not open for business until Monday morning at 8:30 a.m. down in Massachusetts.
I then proceeded to curse all manner of things that have made EVERYONE ELSE’S lives easier (from my limited rage-filled perspective) – and I started with the people who wear glasses – (the irony being that I am one of “those people”). The availability of “glasses repair kits” at every gas station, supermarket, and airport kiosk set me off on a rant because THEY (also, me) can make a hasty repair “on the run”!
The rant continued as I lamented that most inconveniences have been made convenient with the advent of delivery services – including, but not limited to, groceries (InstaCart); dry cleaning (Zoots); take out (DoorDash); and something ridiculous and oddly tempting, Anonymous Potato (Google it and see for yourselves, it’s something).
The grand finale was another colorful collection of words flying out of my mouth – in a combination of English and Italian (which is how you know I am really furious) – over the fact that even if I COULD find an audiologist who was open on a Sunday, it would still be a fruitless exercise because the vast majority of audiologists and hearing aid dispensers will not repair a hearing aid or mold that was not purchased at their establishment.
The final, soaring note that hung in the air as this tirade concluded – “IT IS JUST A GODDAMN PIECE OF PLASTIC!??! HOW HARD IS THIS TO DEAL WITH!?!?”
Sufficiently exhausted, after delivering the aforementioned epic monologue to an empty house, I realized that I needed to take matters into my own hands and examine the facts and actions that I did have control over, which led to the following conversation with myself:
- It is Sunday. No one and nowhere is open, much less your audiologist’s office in Massachusetts.
- Part of the tubing is wedged within the mold, don’t start fussing around with that because you will likely damage the mold which is a bigger problem, and not a single day repair.
- Squelch the impulse to remove the tubing from the right hearing aid and try to slide it on over to the left hearing aid because you will probably cause greater damage to the molding and likely snap that tubing in half, too, leaving you with zero hearing access.
- Call the office, leave a voicemail, and follow up with an email so those messages are among the first to be received on Monday morning when they open at 8:30 a.m.
- Be at the door of the office at 8:30 a.m. flashing my award winning smile.
I set aside my frustration and heartbreak, the two emotions that arrive hand-in-hand whenever I am faced with a significant issue related to my hearing loss. I vowed to try and view this extremely irritating mechanical failure as an opportunity, not an obstacle. I had been dragging my feet on completing writing tasks, graphic designs, and other responsibilities found on my side of our common “to do” list related to both “Hearing Things with Julie and Brad” as well as Down the Tubes Productions. This temporary, unplanned plunge into complete silence brought all other activities including socializing and driving to a screeching halt. Time for work, it is.
As I type this last paragraph, I am waiting for a mid-summer storm to announce its arrival with loud booms and crackles – but am met with the sobering thought that this storm will be silent for me today.
And just like that, my heart broke a little bit more.
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