Hearing Aids and Trekkie Dreams — Lauren Allen, Storyteller

When I was in first grade, my classmate Teddy had the coolest hearing aid. It was pointy and it made him look like he was on Star Trek. While all the other kids were working on their penmanship, or eating paste, or doing whatever else first grade kids do, I would just gaze at it and wonder: could he talk to space?

I decided that I needed to get in on this hearing aid business for myself. I was in luck because that week the school nurse was going to take us each into her office and test our hearing. I had a plan. I got in the office, and she put big headphones on me. She said, “Raise your hand when you hear the tone.” I heard the tone. I did not raise my hand.

When it was done she took the headphones off of me and said quietly, “You can go back to class now.” I was disappointed. How did she know that I could hear?

I got older, and I entered middle school. My life continued to be a series of disappointments. I had to get braces on my top and bottom teeth; they were too tight. I had to wear training bras that were hand-me-downs from my sister: too loose! Worst of all, I found noises a constant source of torture. I would wake each morning to the sound of the coffee grinder roaring: it gave me heart palpitations. I would come downstairs and my brother would be chewing so loudly, you’d think he was a cow. When I got in the car, my sister would breathe super loudly on purpose. I might have had anxiety issues, I’m not sure.

When my mom announced to the family we would fly down to LA and take a road trip up to San Francisco with Grandma, I was horrified. I loved my grandma, but I didn’t want to be trapped with so many mouth-breathing, loud-chewing snorers for a week! I convinced Mom to take me to Walgreens where I could buy my very first package of ear plugs. This was my first purchase, so I read each package very carefully. I decided to buy the wax ones because they had 32 decibels, which was the most decibels. I had no idea what a decibel was but that sounded good.

We flew to LA and got to the Motel 6 where my family of five would share one room. I would share a bed with my sister, with my brother conveniently at our feet so we could trip over him if we had to pee in the middle of the night. Because I knew my sister was a mouth-breathing snorer, I put the wax earplugs into my ears, and… I couldn’t hear anything. It was amazing!

In the morning I woke up panicked because I couldn’t hear anything at all. Then I remembered the earplugs. I reached in and I pulled out half the earplug because the other half was stuck in my ear canal. And then I started freaking out and I reached for the other ear, and I couldn’t feel anything at all. I had completely sealed myself up with wax. I started crying, and my mom and dad tried tweezers to get it out, but nothing was helping and it hurt and we were late to pick up grandma.

Eventually we drove to the airport. I was still deaf. I was still crying but my tears stopped as soon as I saw my grandma: she gave me the perfect hug. She was about my height and always smelled like dried roses. My arms could just barely reach around her, but she somehow felt frail, like a bird. She was so sweet. While I was in the hug I noticed that her ear was pointy like a Trekkie: she had a hearing aid.

I felt so jealous of her. If noises bothered my grandma she could just turn them off. And when she wanted to join the world again, she could turn them back on. I had wanted to escape from the noises so badly, but all I wanted to do at that point was to join the land of the living again so I could hear my grandma.

When it was done she took the headphones off of me and said quietly, “You can go back to class now.” I was disappointed. How did she know that I could hear?

I got older, and I entered middle school. My life continued to be a series of disappointments. I had to get braces on my top and bottom teeth; they were too tight. I had to wear training bras that were hand-me-downs from my sister: too loose! Worst of all, I found noises a constant source of torture. I would wake each morning to the sound of the coffee grinder roaring: it gave me heart palpitations. I would come downstairs and my brother would be chewing so loudly, you’d think he was a cow. When I got in the car, my sister would breathe super loudly on purpose. I might have had anxiety issues, I’m not sure.