The first few days I wore ‘em, I kept spinning around whenever I walked somewhere — paranoid that someone was following me. But each time I looked, nobody was there.
Turns out I wasn’t used to hearing my own footsteps.
Hi. My name is Scott Pinsker, and I’ve been wearing hearing aids for about a year now. Little by little, I’m becoming a robot.
I like to pretend I’m Luke Skywalker, only instead of a new hand, I have new ears.
That’s because I have an adorable condition called tinnitus: There’s a high-pitched, cricket-like sound in my ears, and it NEVER goes away. So I can hear deep, low-pitched noises just fine, but the tinnitus blocks-out higher-pitched frequencies. It’s really hard for me to decipher what people are saying.
(Which means, I actually have a valid medical excuse for not listening to women and children.)
I can’t attribute the tinnitus to anything cool, like dodging mortar fire in a warzone or being a roadie for Iron Maiden. It just sort of happened. I mean, when I was a teen and mowed lawns, I’d push the volume all the way up on my Walkman, because it drowned out the annoying noise of the lawnmower. (Yes, that was stupid.) And I’ve been to plenty of rock concerts, sports events, and nightclubs that were so dang loud, you couldn’t even talk to the person next to you. But I don’t recall my ears ever ringing afterwards. I always felt fine the next day.
Then, about a decade ago, I was looking out the window of my home, daydreaming contentedly, and my tinnitus began. Just like that.
And it hasn’t gone away.
I got fairly proficient at lip-reading. It wasn’t anything deliberate, but I subconsciously began zeroing-in on peoples’ mouths when they spoke, because it helped me fill the gaps in my hearing. In a weird way, tinnitus probably made me a better listener.
But then COVID hit: Everyone was wearing masks.
And I was lost. Like, I literally needed my wife and kids to help me communicate.
Pro Tip: When your hearing goes south, here are a few helpful tricks:
The non-sequitur response: “Well, you look great!” (It’s what you say when someone shared something deeply personal, but you don’t know what the heck it was, so you redirect with a complement.) You can also roll with something like, “What a time to be alive,” which works both as a positive affirmation and/or a sarcastic-yet-empathetic rejoinder.
The non-name name: “Buddy, pal, dude, guy, friend, brother, amigo!” (He already told me his name, but I couldn’t hear him clearly and I’m way too embarrassed to ask again.)
The rule of two: You’re only allowed to ask someone to repeat something twice. (After two attempts, if you still can’t hear ‘em, social etiquette requires you to nod your head and grin like an idiot.)
It goes like this:
Speaker: Something-something-something.
Me: I’m sorry, uh, could you please repeat that?
Speaker: Something-something-something.
Me: Haha, I’m sorry, one more time.
Speaker: Something-something-something.
Me: [nods head, smiles widely] Yeaaaahhhh… hahahaha.
My hearing aids are connected to my smartphone, which means I can listen to music or podcasts without anyone knowing. That’s a nice feature. (My kids/wife have busted me on more than one occasion, but let’s be honest, some of their stories are REALLY boring.)
In retrospect, I wish I had taken the plunge and gotten fitted for hearing aids earlier. I didn’t realize how much I was missing. I guess it’s like getting eyeglasses for the first time, and then being astonished to learn that the green, blurry parts of a tree are comprised of thousands of little leaves. Yeah, in theory you already knew that, but seeing all the leaves for yourself is still a powerful moment.
I don’t know why I waited so long to get ‘em. Sure, ego was part of it — nobody liked getting old(er) and falling apart — but honestly?
Sometimes it’s nice to be (mostly) deaf.
Nine times out of ten, if it was anything important, they’d repeat it anyway. (Most of the stuff I couldn’t hear was boring. Probably.) I kinda felt as if I was getting hearing aids as a favor for my family: I’m making it easier for them to tell me what to do and order me around!
How does that benefit me?!
But after using ‘em for a year, I loathe being without them. Going out in public and struggling to follow conversations is annoying. It really, truly compromises your quality of life.
So if any of you guys/gals are on the fence, listen to your Uncle Scotty, take the plunge, and get fitted for hearing aids ASAP. They’re now available over the counter, so you can have your hearing screened — and your hearing aids programmed to match your auditory issues — at Costco, Sam’s Club, BJ’s (where I got mine), and other retailers. It’s one of the fastest, easiest ways to be happier, more socially engaged, and more aware of your surroundings.
(Plus, if people are annoying, you can always turn them off.)
There’s no stigma in hearing aids anymore: If someone sees your wearing ‘em, they’re not gonna make fun of you. Instead, they’ll (gasp!) speak louder.
(Or they’ll either think they’re AirPods and you’re a super-cool Apple guy. Some of these newfangled hearing aids are indistinguishable from wireless earbuds.)
Really. If you’re struggling with your hearing, go get hearing aids. It’s your first step to making 2026 your best year yet.
And this time, you’ll hear the footsteps, too.
