Saturday, April 13, 2024

Natural born panicker

I went back for an intensive hearing test this morning. You have to sit in a little box and press a button when you hear a sound. Sounds simple but not if you're a natural panicker.

"Why is there such a long gap between beeps? Is he not pressing buttons or am I missing loads of them? Why is he staring at the screen so intently? Is there something terrible wrong? Why is he leaving me in here when I haven't heard . . . ooh, was that a beep? Or was it my imagination? That light switch looks like a face. No, concentrate, close your eyes. No, stay awake."

It turns out volume wise my hearing is okay but I miss certain letters of higher frequency making my brain struggle to work out what the word should be. My hearing has deteriorated a little since the last check two years ago and I would probably benefit from hearing aids. But I'm still in the mild hearing loss band.

However, it seems I hear better through the back of my head than I do through my left ear. So I have to see the GP who will probably have to refer me to the Ear, Nose and Throat department. Something is stopping the sound getting into my head, maybe fluid in the ear or something.  Signs of it were showing at my last test but now it's gone over the edge of the 'should be referred' line. So it's not a dramatic sudden change. And I don't have to worry. 

But of course I panicked and went to Mumbles and bought a large bar of chocolate.

But on the good news front, the biopsy from Husband's ear shows no further cancer cells. Yay.

* * * * *

As I've said many times I grew up in the heart of the village of Mumbles, living in Albert House with my mum, my grandparents, and my great-gran.

My grandparents and my first dog, Soames.

Many years after we sold it the house was still in reasonable condition.
Then the old lady who was living there died.

Her son intended to do it up but time dragged on and the house looked worse and worse. Then just before lockdown work began on it, and then stopped. And then started again last autumn. And then stopped.

This is my childhood home now.

People who knew my family stop me and tell me how it breaks their hearts to see it so. It breaks mine too.


Debra She Who Seeks said...

The last time I saw my childhood home, it had deteriorated into a real dump, a run-down shack. And all the trees I had known in my childhood were gone, dead and cut down, I assume. So I feel your pain, Liz.

Good news about your husband's ear! And it's wise that you are getting your hearing checked out.

Ole phat Stu said...

"...the mild hearing loss band..."
Would that be Guns and Roses?

Kathy G said...

I grew up in a typical tract house in the middle of a typical tract subdivision. The last time I saw it the house seemed to be in acceptable repair. Fluid in the ear sounds like something that is easy to fix.

jabblog said...

I react to visual fields tests in the same way as you do to hearing tests.Click just in case . . .

Anvilcloud said...

I am sure that I do some phantom presses, when I am not sure if I am hearing a beep.

Boud said...

My childhood home in the Yorkshire Dales has come up in the world. Posh! Bathrooms now! Very $$. Since they created the north Yorkshire national park right outside it.

Cop Car said...

How distressing to see your childhood home in such a state. I relate. Twenty years ago, I found the first house in which I had lived to be a pile of old boards overgrown by weeds. That bothered me. It would have saddened me more had it started out as such a noble house as yours. I am sorry.

Ann said...

I always find it sad to see houses getting run down.

Liz Hinds said...

It seems many of us grieve over our old homes. I think it's a good sign as it suggests we were happy there.