On getting older and acknowledging body issues

My family (well, my dad's side) gets together every year in Ashland, Oregon, ostensibly to see some Oregon Shakespeare Festival plays (which are, with very few exceptions, fantastically good).

This year, my sister missed which weekend we were gathering and got us tickets to the wrong weekend. On switching them back to the correct weekend, we ended up with seats that are scattered all over the theater. I just realized today that I will therefore not have anyone to whisper to, "What did he just say?" and so forth. My hearing is getting worse and worse--my right ear is so bad that if I plug that ear, I don't detect any change in hearing, but if I plug the left, it's as if I've descended down a very long tube. I'll have to ramp up my 125-plan medical savings next year to buy my first hearing aid.

For now, though, I thought I should look into those assistive hearing devices they sometimes offer. The OSF website says they're available, so I wrote to ask whether they'll be at all performances, and whether they sometimes run out (we are a perpetually late family).

The start of my email was "I am hard of hearing...". Ouch. Hard to admit that, out loud, to a total stranger.

I guess it's time, though. There are times in the car when I simply cannot make out what G is saying to me, and at parties or in other loud-background-noise places where I'm desperately relying on lipreading and still sometimes smile and nod and give up on asking "What?" over and over.

Getting old--it's not for wimps.