Fifteen Seconds with Tinnitus and the Grandkids

Rrrrrrrr-ing-rrrrrr-ing-ing-rrrr-ing-rrrrrrrrrr-ing-ing-rr-ing-rrrrr (“Gamma, I tuk – NO! - me do it”) rrrrr-ing-rrrrrrrrrrrr-ing-rrr-ing-rrrrrrr-ing-rr-ing-ing (“I mumble-mumble-mumble said um an I wa a mumble-mumble-mumble”) rrrrrrrrrrr-ing-rr-ing-ing-rrrr-ing-ring-rrrrr-rrrrrr-ing-rrr-ing (“Uh!  Uh!  Da my!”)  rrr-ing-rrrrrrr-ing-ing-rrrrrr-ing-rr-ing-ing (“MY!  ME!”) rrrrrr-ing-rr-ing-ing-rrrrrrrr-ing-rrrrrrrrrr-ing-rr-ing-rrrr-ing (mumble-mumble-mumble just mayonnaise mumble-mumble-mumble) rrrrrr-ing-rrr-ing-rrrrrrrrrr-ing-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-ing (“Gramma, can you please make a mumble-mumble-mumble for me?)  rrrrr-ing-rrrrrrrrr-ing-ing-rr-ing

This is SO TYPICAL.  One child is stuck in the high chair and doesn’t want help figuring out her escape.  Another is asked to define the lunch sandwich-of-choice and I can’t hear what it is.  The first is incensed that someone else has her sippy cup.  The second defines the sandwich in ways I can’t understand.  The third chimes in with a nicely-worded request (I’ve been working with this little cherub to cut out the bossy ‘I wants’) but I only partially decipher it and hear everything but the most important part.

Because of the hearing disability accompanying my tinnitus, communicating with the grandkids is especially hard work.  I am gradually teaching them to help me hear by looking at my face and speaking clearly.  Some get it more than others, and all forget most of the time.

No wonder I’m loopy after a whole day of constant internal ringing punctuated with little-kid chirping and mumble-blah-mumbo-ing. Multiple days in a row?  Well, this discussion at least partially explains why I’m not just your average, ordinary person.  If I seem a little insane around the edges sometimes, there’s a chance you might be exactly right.