Monday, June 4, 2001
A Trick of Sound - To LTF
I spoke with a woman today who cleared up the mystery for me about why music has been successively irritating me.
"Your mother's hard of hearing, isn't she?" she asked me.
"Yes, but, she has always liked music."
"Is she hard of hearing from age or from an injury?"
From multiple injuries, although age has accentuated the loss. When she was very young she suffered from horrible ear infections. Throughout those years she had both eardrums lanced, one twice.
"That's the problem," said this woman. It seems that finding sound irritating is very common among the elderly as they lose their hearing but especially so (and especially progressive) when someone has suffered direct injury to the ear drum, which, essentially, is what lancing is. "You're stepping in to help control your mother's environment on her behalf so whatever irritates her is going to irritate you."
The interesting thing is that my mother has always been irritated by all music produced by stringed instruments stroked by bows. She also has a problem with music produced by reeded instruments. When I decided to teach myself how to play the oboe, after one practice session, even though I did quite well, I was banished to the butler building (which functioned as a community hall) down the street to practice. The saxophone, overall, didn't bother her but when I was playing with a dry or a crumbing reed it did.
I am remembering that sound of all kinds has always been a minefield for my mother. She was very pleased that two of us took up music to varying degrees (there are professional musicians on her side of the family), but she never attended any of my performances (I'm the only one who ever performed in public) and practicing away from home was very common for me. It seems as though we always had some sort of music playing from records and tapes at home but, now, as I recall, I was the one who was playing it and I rigged up, very early, a set of headphones with auxiliary cords connected to it so I could travel out into the garage and paint "to music".
I also now notice that I am constantly regulating the sound on the television for her because she likes to watch television but there is much of it that simply can't negotiate her ears or that she finds irritating and she can't get the hang of using a remote. I've become her remote. I can tell from the way she moves her head or readjusts herself in the chair whether the sound needs to go up or down. Sometimes it's so automatic that I can control whole programs without her ever complaining about the sound. It occurred to me, happily, that maybe she will eventually find television too irritating to watch.
Anyway, this woman and I talked about this. She is, I suppose I should tell you, a therapist (Ph.D in Psychology). We met to another purpose but having an interest in the caretaking of the elderly because some of her clients are elder caretakers and having heard about my situation through mutual friends, she and I got into this discussion about the effect taking care of my mother has had on my life. This hearing quirk came up under the category of "odd circumstances".
I think she's right. Even more interesting, APF was eavesdropping (this Prescott Friend has the ability to eavesdrop on everyone, everywhere, all the time) and being, also, the type of person for whom everything is a problem in need of a solution, she piped up, "So, what are you going to do about it?" What is interesting is that both the psychologist and I responded simultaneously, "Nothing."
Really, now that I understand why this is happening (I can't believe it was this simple) I don't feel the need to do anything. I can think about the condition now without pain and am even adding some history to it. The psychologist suggested that I try reintroducing music in the car when I'm driving alone, but the music on NPR, what little of it there is, sometimes gets to me and I am in the car alone more often than not, now. When my mother is in the car the radio is always off unless I must listen to the traffic reports, through which she complains. The radio irritates her right to the outer reaches of her sanity.
I don't think it's to my detriment to be sensing for someone else for part of my life. I am relieved to know that these sensitivities fall away when they are no longer necessary; at least that's what the psychologist reports. Since talking with her I've been thinking of parents who have trouble dropping nurturant behaviors that are no longer necessary. I guess, really, the advantage I will have is that when I stop nurturing my mother it will be because she is dead and it won't occur to me to continue trying to nurture her.
"Your mother's hard of hearing, isn't she?" she asked me.
"Yes, but, she has always liked music."
"Is she hard of hearing from age or from an injury?"
From multiple injuries, although age has accentuated the loss. When she was very young she suffered from horrible ear infections. Throughout those years she had both eardrums lanced, one twice.
"That's the problem," said this woman. It seems that finding sound irritating is very common among the elderly as they lose their hearing but especially so (and especially progressive) when someone has suffered direct injury to the ear drum, which, essentially, is what lancing is. "You're stepping in to help control your mother's environment on her behalf so whatever irritates her is going to irritate you."
The interesting thing is that my mother has always been irritated by all music produced by stringed instruments stroked by bows. She also has a problem with music produced by reeded instruments. When I decided to teach myself how to play the oboe, after one practice session, even though I did quite well, I was banished to the butler building (which functioned as a community hall) down the street to practice. The saxophone, overall, didn't bother her but when I was playing with a dry or a crumbing reed it did.
I am remembering that sound of all kinds has always been a minefield for my mother. She was very pleased that two of us took up music to varying degrees (there are professional musicians on her side of the family), but she never attended any of my performances (I'm the only one who ever performed in public) and practicing away from home was very common for me. It seems as though we always had some sort of music playing from records and tapes at home but, now, as I recall, I was the one who was playing it and I rigged up, very early, a set of headphones with auxiliary cords connected to it so I could travel out into the garage and paint "to music".
I also now notice that I am constantly regulating the sound on the television for her because she likes to watch television but there is much of it that simply can't negotiate her ears or that she finds irritating and she can't get the hang of using a remote. I've become her remote. I can tell from the way she moves her head or readjusts herself in the chair whether the sound needs to go up or down. Sometimes it's so automatic that I can control whole programs without her ever complaining about the sound. It occurred to me, happily, that maybe she will eventually find television too irritating to watch.
Anyway, this woman and I talked about this. She is, I suppose I should tell you, a therapist (Ph.D in Psychology). We met to another purpose but having an interest in the caretaking of the elderly because some of her clients are elder caretakers and having heard about my situation through mutual friends, she and I got into this discussion about the effect taking care of my mother has had on my life. This hearing quirk came up under the category of "odd circumstances".
I think she's right. Even more interesting, APF was eavesdropping (this Prescott Friend has the ability to eavesdrop on everyone, everywhere, all the time) and being, also, the type of person for whom everything is a problem in need of a solution, she piped up, "So, what are you going to do about it?" What is interesting is that both the psychologist and I responded simultaneously, "Nothing."
Really, now that I understand why this is happening (I can't believe it was this simple) I don't feel the need to do anything. I can think about the condition now without pain and am even adding some history to it. The psychologist suggested that I try reintroducing music in the car when I'm driving alone, but the music on NPR, what little of it there is, sometimes gets to me and I am in the car alone more often than not, now. When my mother is in the car the radio is always off unless I must listen to the traffic reports, through which she complains. The radio irritates her right to the outer reaches of her sanity.
I don't think it's to my detriment to be sensing for someone else for part of my life. I am relieved to know that these sensitivities fall away when they are no longer necessary; at least that's what the psychologist reports. Since talking with her I've been thinking of parents who have trouble dropping nurturant behaviors that are no longer necessary. I guess, really, the advantage I will have is that when I stop nurturing my mother it will be because she is dead and it won't occur to me to continue trying to nurture her.
