Jonny McCambridge: A (blurry and muffled) sense that times are changing

The slow deterioration in my eyesight, which I have been aware of for some time, has become more noticeable in recent months. I now find it difficult to read small print when it is positioned close to my face.

This becomes a particular challenge at a time of the year when my duties include inserting multiple batteries, building toys and reading detailed instructions which are often printed in densely packed miniscule type on small scraps of paper, as if the primary intention of the manufacturers was to assist an attempt to smuggle the manuscripts into prison.

I put together a little outer space kit for my son which was left by Santa. It was a basic task, merely requiring a few small parts to be fitted together to create a celestial landscape. But the job involved string which had to be inserted through tiny holes so some of the pieces could be suspended.

My clumsy and coarse fingers, perhaps not conditioned by ancestral memories for such fine work, and my faltering eyesight, meant a job which should have taken a few minutes, instead lasted over an hour.

In the end it was only accomplished by getting my son to hold the string still while I approached it with the space figures in one hand and a toy magnifying glass from a Christmas cracker in the other.

At my last eye test, two years ago, it was determined that I was not yet at the point where I needed to wear spectacles. The next test, later this month, will surely have a different outcome.

The hearing issue has been more of a surprise and is particular to my left ear. Over the past few weeks I have noticed that the sound through that aural passage has become muffled.

The symptoms can vary in severity. Sometimes it is mild annoyance, while on other occasions it can feel like a sock has been stuffed in there. There is also an incessant light buzzing sound.

My hypochondrial tendencies were recently sent into overdrive when I heard a loud beeping noise sounding repeatedly. My panic was only lessened when my wife assured me that she could hear it too and pointed out that it was merely the new dishwasher finishing its cycle.

The condition most likely has a simple explanation. It could be that there is something blocking the uninhibited transfer of sound vibrations within my ear; a pea or an M&M, a small Christmas decoration, or perhaps more likely, some wax.

My usual approach when dealing in general with an obstruction is to insert a screwdriver into the blocked passage and give it a good hoke around; although I am led to believe that this is not a recommended course of action with the delicate workings of the inner ear.

To be on the safe side, the eye test that I have booked for later this month, will also include a hearing examination.

I do not consider myself to be an old man. I am not yet 50 years of age. However, following a recent birthday I did find myself considering for the first time that, unless I endure to a very advanced age, then I have probably lived more of my life than what is still to come.

This particular maudlin musing was reinforced when I received a happy birthday message from a relative who cheerily assured me that the next 47 years would go much faster than the first 47.

Aside from the hearing and vision problems, there is also the bad back which requires me to lie down after prolonged periods of activity, and that annoying ache at the back of my right knee which just never seems to go away.

Add in the requirement to establish a routine that ensures that I am always in close proximity to a toilet, and the conclusion becomes inescapable – physically I am not quite what I once was.

I cannot run as fast as I once did, or perhaps more relevantly, I cannot sit through a movie any longer with dozing off for a short nap in the middle and having to ask my wife or son what I missed.

Of course, the counter argument to this is that while there is some inevitable physical deterioration, this is compensated for by the improvements in my mind, the gradual accumulation of wisdom and experience. A greater certainty in decision making and judgement.

This is true to an extent, but the physical state and the mental over overlap. There is a partial fracturing of confidence, a little bit of self-confidence lost, by the realisation that regression has replaced progression.

I have a lot of time to think about this when I am sitting opposite my son in a coffee shop. It follows a visit to the bookshop on one of the first occasions in which I have taken him out of the house following his period of Covid self-isolation.

I know how these visits usually go. I will buy him a juice and a bun and then amuse him by telling silly stories or showing videos on my phone.

But this is different. He prefers a hot chocolate to a juice and is keen to devour his newly purchased book. He sits silently engrossed in the tome while sipping on the warm beverage as I watch him. It is as if for the first time I am seeing how grown up he has become.

The only interruption is when he goes to fetch some napkins because I have spilt coffee down the front of my jumper and when he tells me off for staring at him.

Growing up, or indeed growing older, can be such a gradual process that trying to find a definite moment of change can be as elusive and slippery as trying to grasp a young fish. But, right now, as I watch my son read his book, I am filled with a sense of change, of the inevitable passing of time and the consequences of it. Perhaps it is a state of mind brought about by the turning of one year to the next.

My senses may be diminished but I can still see and hear that my wee man is not so wee anymore.