Being deaf

My parents are here. Dad is 85. Mom is 76. That's four hearing aids. Three weeks ago, I got water in my left ear and still cannot hear. We have become a symphony of "what?" Grocery shopping, neighbors dropping by, wedding receptions and people are a jumble of sound. I suspect that I am also deaf to loneliness, dependency, aching bones, pricked diabetic fingers, slow walking, and a desire to be thought about and loved and reassured. It must feel disappointing when the thunderstorm fails to wake you in the middle of the night. It is certainly a small grief yet a reluctant march toward greater loss.