in which I discombobulate the audiologists

This hearing-aid is a little more than four years old now, which is more or less as long as it’s supposed to last. When the phone setting went out a week ago, I got Mister Husband to call the audiologist and make an appointment for me. It turned out I needed a hearing test, because all this time that I’ve been taking it to them for repairs they’ve apparently had no data on my actual hearing. (I coulda sworn I gave them my file two years ago, but that makes no nevermind now.)
So in I went today. There was a new audiologist, E., training, and I said sure, I’d help break her in. When she came to get me from the waiting room she said, “So, you think you might be losing a bit of your hearing?” “Um, no. I’ve been deaf since I was two. I’m pretty sure I’ve lost my hearing.”
So we ran through the usual tests and she did well. Then we proceeded back to my usual audiologist, J. She stared at the results sheet. She dragged E. out in the hall and there was much murmuring. Then they came back.
J: Does this look right to you, Krista?
Me: Well, I haven’t memorized my chart, but yes.
J: This says you have practically no hearing in your right ear.
Me: Yes.
J: Has it always been that way?
Me: For oh, um, lessee, (counts frantically) 28 years now.
J: And you don’t hear much on the other side, either.
Me: No. It’s been that way for 28 years too. I had spinal meningitis.
J: Oh.
She lets E. leave and we start to talk about options. But she keeps looking at my chart, and she’s oddly flustered.
J: Are you sure this chart looks right to you?
Me: Yes. Do you not see people this deaf in here often, or what’s up?
J: Oh, we see people like this all the time. But, um, you’re very functional.
Me: I’ve been told that before. Audiologists generally say that I don’t hear as well as I function. I had very determined parents.
J: It’s true. You teach?
Me: Yes. (Wondering how much longer we must discuss this.) And I have student comments about what a non-issue it is.
J: Well. We should get you a new hearing-aid.
Me: Please. (Sigh of relief.)
J: And you give presentations?
Me: Yes. Hey, I didn’t know they make hearing-aids in translucent purple now.
On the one hand, these sorts of conversations are validating. But on the other hand, they undershot me by $800 on the estimate several months ago because they selected the model based on the amount of deafness they thought I had from observing my functionality. Not anyone’s fault, really, but it eats up more of my student loan than I had planned. I don’t need the weakest model, I need the strongest model. And it’ll be here next Tuesday.