With 2006 upon us, "the 60s" is no longer the faded, fantastic decade of peace and love, upheaval and change. For the first in line of the baby boom—those born in 1946—the 60s is now their age. At one holiday reunion, I was talking with a friend who is one of those leading-edgers. He was lamenting that too much time in the '60s (the decade, that is) with his "head between the speakers" had caught up with him, and he was having trouble with his hearing. I asked what I thought was an appropriate question: Had he considered a hearing aid?
From his look, you'd have thought I suggested that maybe Richard Nixon was a pretty hip guy after all. This friend makes no other obvious effort to disguise his age. His reading glasses hang from his neck, and what's left of his hair has long gone gray. But the idea of plugging in and thereby advertising his hearing shortage was simply beyond the pale.
At some point, we all live with some level of inconvenience that's tied to a physical condition. If we're very fortunate, like my friend, it's at a level that can still be considered a matter of choice. I don't know if I'd make the choice he made, but he's willing to accept that there's not all that much going on within his earshot that he needs to be in on anyway.
That many of your patients in this age group are making the same kinds of choices, and sacrifices, with their vision will be no surprise. But it is good news.
Because the leading edge of this big, fat, graying demographic is a big, fat fastball coming right over the plate. Get it right, give them a better choice than the voluntary visual disability that so many of them are living with and not only will they beat a path to your door, but they'll send their friends.
The options at this point are many and, for the most part, unproven in clinical practice. Our Annual IOL Issue only scratches the surface of what should be a fascinating shaking out process. That's a pretty good way to begin a new year.
