To follow up on my 10/6 post, our cat with the industrial-engine-rumble kind of purr has always been easily heard, but it was a fairly simple sound. Now that I’ve had my aids awhile, I’m discovering an incredible amount of depth in sounds that were pretty simple before. With the cat, I now hear a lot of resonance, like a clear indication of nasal cavities reverberating with overlapping pressure waves. There is a distinct rise and fall of amplitude with each breath, and it’s not the monotone I initially thought - there are several changing frequencies bouncing around with each breath.
This is somewhat equivalent to the first time I wore eyeglasses. I remember coming back from the optometrist noticing each and every leaf on trees. Temporary fabric signs warning of construction, and noticing that the fabric had the characteristic weave pattern of rip-stop nylon. I had never seen one up close.
Of course that kind of sensory detail slides into the background pretty rapidly - the brain simply can’t stand being bombarded with all that information constantly, so it starts being selective about what it pays attention to.
But all that information is there if you need it and want to pay attention to it. I still recall resting at my desk during lunch decades ago, with my head on my hands and eyes closed. I heard footfalls nearby and was surprised that I knew, with certainty, who they belonged to. The sounds of those footfalls were so dense with uniquely-identifying information that they were unmistakable. Being that aware of my surroundings brought a lot of satisfaction.
The barrage of information I hear now, compared to pre-HA times, is sometimes a bit much. But I’m quickly remembering and appreciating the far better understanding of my surroundings.
Including the cat’s purr.