Paying Attention

One of the most frequent questions I have been asked in the two and a half years the vitreous hemorrhage kicked off this experience of going blind: "Have your other senses gotten better?"
The answer is no. I have not become Marvel Comics’ Daredevil with extraordinary abilities of smell or hearing or touch.
While by no means a severe case, as a diabetic of nearly 40 years, I do have some neuropathy, which is pretty much inevitable. My tactile senses have slightly diminished over time, and I am not sure that my fingers retain enough acute sensitivity for me to even learn braille.
My roommate thinks my sense of smell if better, but am pretty sure it is more of a matter of comparison and that his sense of smell is not good, in part because he is not one to pay overmuch attention to his surroundings. Someone in this urban neighborhood has been burning wood throughout the winter. The roommate has not been able to sense that while it often triggered my sinuses throughout this past winter. I can smell the beginnings of mold on bread, but I also specifically sniff for it. He will deny any off odor; I will usually leave that bread for him and he will throw it out to the birds without comment in a day or so.
I have not explored the sense of taste as compensation for the diminished sight. In a house full of moldy bread and kitty litter boxes, this does not seem very practical.
Hearing most of all requires paying attention. I am lucky that I have always been very good with voices, which was perhaps compensation for the fact that I was never very good with faces. I got a job once years ago by my voice recognition: as I walked through the door following an interview I answered the ringing phone and recognized the voice of the interviewer as she asked for someone else after accidentally calling that person in my number. The ability worked well with taking the visual cues I can discern un identifying who I am talking to. I work with what I have left, as best as I can.
Heating, however, is reliant on being free of distraction. When bowling, I can often–but not unerringly–tell how many pins I hit when shooting for a spare by listening for the collision. If there are other nearby rolls, this obviously does not work so well.
In loud or clamourous settings, I often don’t hear when being spoken to directly.
\Nor can I eavesdrop with any certainty. I typically don’t have the motivation. If I want to know something badly enough, I typically have the tactlessness to ask on point.