Calling my dad "deaf as a stone wall" would be an insult to stone walls. You see, stones are porous…read moreand can absorb sound vibrations. No sound known to mankind could cause my dad's abused, octogenarian eardrums to vibrate...or at least that's what my mom and I *assumed*. After decades of stubbornness, he recently admitted to needing hearing aids and took the plunge. What better place to look than the Hearing Aid Store located conveniently at the local Costco? Prior to last week, my dad couldn't have heard a B-17 bomber crash dive into an Olympic-sized swimming pool filled with nitroglycerin. However, now that he's equipped with state-of-the-art, tailor-made hearing aids, he can hear a gnat fart from thirty feet across the room.
Prior to purchasing the aids, my dad scheduled a hearing test with Isaac Rodriguez, who determined quickly that good ol' Pappy was indeed deafer than a door nail, post, bat, haddock, coot, adder, dormouse, dodo, and a host of other very scientific idioms. Mr. Rodriguez then created a pair of hearing aids based on my dad's laughably low-scoring hearing test. They were ready for pickup the following week.
I won't pretend to be an authority on hearing aids, but I know they were once cumbersome, beastly things that ate up batteries faster than my Atari Lynx. The ones my dad purchased from Costco are anything but cumbersome; they're far less conspicuous than ear buds and run for nearly a week on one tiny 1.45-volt battery. Unless you were to look directly into his ears (please don't, you freak), you wouldn't even notice he was wearing hearing aids.
Even cooler, the aids double as Bluetooth speakers, which means he can listen to music from his phone, answer calls, and hear text alerts directly in his ear holes*. Isaac also installed an app on my dad's phone that allows him to adjust the volume, treble, and bass frequencies of each hearing aid. The ability to adjust the frequencies comes in handy, because my dad likes his gangsta rap (okay, okay...his Patsy Cline and Perry Como songs) extra bassy.
The best part of all (well, except for the fact that he can finally HEAR) is the cost. Most high-end hearing aids cost upwards of $7,000/pair, but my dad paid only $1,500. Even better, his insurance provider (United Healthcare Advantage) reimbursed him $500, bringing the cost down to $1,000. I have near-perfect hearing, but even I feel compelled to buy a pair at that cost. I would want mine to be large and obvious, though, because then I would garner sympathy from strangers. Just give me a wheelchair and an eye-patch, too, and I'd be set.
If you or a loved one suffer from hearing loss, I would strongly recommend dropping by your local Costco Hearing Aid Center and taking a free hearing test. We have only five senses, so why let one of them go to waste? Well, as an intuitive/clairvoyant/clairsentient, I technically possess *six* senses, but I digress. My third eye/pineal gland is admittedly a little hazy lately, so I hope Costco will one day open third eye blindness testing center.
*Fun tip: If the individual using the hearing aids suffers from schizophrenia, grab the cell phone and record nefarious messages seemingly from his or her dog. Remember, the hearing aids are equipped with Bluetooth, so only the wearer will hear the recordings. Play the messages back when the dog is nearby and watch hilarity ensue.
