The vast majority of people with hearing loss wish we could hear better in a noisy restaurant. Why is this so difficult? It turns out there are a lot of things working against us.
First is the setting itself. The trend in restaurants today is lot of hard, reflective surfaces, an open kitchen, and piped in music. This impacts everyone. In fact, noise is the #1 complaint among diners.
Secondly, the majority of permanent hearing loss is sensorineural, due to damage to the inner ear or the nerve from the ear to the brain. This makes it hard to hear parts of speech on the path from the ears to the brain. In order to understand someone speaking in noise, the speech sound needs to be much stronger than the noise. This is the “signal to noise ratio.”
The third and final reason is that hearing aids have limits in their abilities. It is difficult to filter one voice from a jumble of voices and noise. Expectations run high when people invest thousands of dollars in hearing aids and services. Unfortunately, some situations exceed the capabilities, even with directional microphones and speech-in-noise programs.
Aside from delicious food, it’s conversation that is at the heart of a great dining experience. We gather there with our family and friends to relax and share stories. It’s so hard to sit and watch everyone laugh together when you cannot hear them. Harder still is that you pretend that you do. It’s like glimpsing a party inside as you walk past on a cold winter night.
A few years ago, I stayed at a bed and breakfast in Washington, D.C. Picture a grand old Victorian home with a big, shiny mahogany dining table. As I sit down for breakfast, two women seated at the table greet me. As they dine, they tell me they’re from Denmark. This intrigues me right away, because my paternal great- grandparents immigrated from Denmark. I am so curious about what it’s like to live there, hoping for some insight into ancestors I never knew.
After a few moments, a young couple sits down with us. They introduce themselves and tell us they are Ph.D. students. I wonder about their area of research and want to hear more.
Things start out fine until the conversation picks up. I feel myself strain now to catch the words as the others banter back and forth across the large table. Finally, I can no longer participate. I still sit there, yet I can no longer fully connect. Now I must switch into the familiar role where I only pretend to understand the conversation.
I have a remote microphone right in my pocket. I bought it to help me hear better in a noisy situation just like this. All I have to do is put it down in the middle of the table.
And I can’t do it. This is the stigma of hearing loss. It defeats us and it takes time to move beyond it.
About one year later, I again find myself at a meal with strangers. This time it is a table of 10 people. I always feel weary going into these situations, but tonight I decide to try harder. Just after we take our seats, I hold up my remote mic. Everyone listens as I explain what it is and why I need it. I expect them to feel uncomfortable—and I am so wrong.
Everyone is on board to help me, especially a nurse named Kathy. Her caring nature is so obvious as I watch her tend to my needs. She quietly passes my microphone around from person to person as they share their stories. I cannot express how included and grateful this makes me feel.
I enjoy myself so much and now I no longer hesitate to bring out my remote mic. Once more, I can connect.
Learn more about remote mics and keep your connection to family and friends while dining out.
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Andrea Kaneb lives in New Hampshire. An electrical engineer with a genetic hearing loss, she runs the website Gathering Sound, offering practical advice to improve listening experiences, and where this blog post originally appeared.
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