my heart goes out to you. all i can share with you is how my son, i, and those who love him have looked at this:
you can have a tumor that insidiously grows until it takes nearly everything, including the hearing you're trying to preserve, or you can stop it in its tracks and sacrifice the hearing in that ear that you would likely eventually lose anyway, in order to potentially preserve your quality of life elsewhere.
it does indeed suck. i'm not going to whitewash it. music, my son's passion, no longer sounds the same to him. noisy waiting rooms are a bear - and he hasn't even had to deal with restaurants yet! it's unpleasant.
but you know what's interesting? as my husband and i and our son started sharing this journey with others, we found out so many people we actually know - up close and personal - are SSD without us having ever known it before. one of my son's members (he teaches swim at the y). the mother of one of my dearest friends (she was just telling me at a family party two days ago how she's been SSD since childhood, and i never knew!); she had the opportunity to go to house years ago and decided against it, because she was already used to things and didn't want to take any risks. so there's two. my husband's boss' wife has apparently been SSD for 15 years. and, most startling of all, my husband's late aunt. he's known her his whole life, and i'd known her for 15 years prior to her passing, and neither of us realized until my mother in law shared it with us.
there is life after SSD. my son has only been dealing with it for four weeks, and already you wouldn't really know the difference, and even he says he is getting used to it. he's more comfortable now with saying, 'hey, uh, i can't hear you!' than he was in the early days, when he'd pretend he could, his face turned into a grimace. now he's just like, 'yeah, this is a thing.' i took him for his first post-op haircut today, and his barber said something to his left, and he just casually said, 'i'm sorry, can you speak a little louder? i had brain surgery and i'm deaf in that ear,' and the barber was like, 'oh! my bad, so sorry!' and repeated himself. it wasn't a thing. (also, he sleeps so well now! lays on his good ear and he reports that it's blissfully silent!)
i won't tell you it's easy. what i will tell you is that a mere four weeks out, from a distance, and likewise finding out how many people close to us have the same issue (for different reasons), it doesn't have to be the very worst thing ever.
my heart does go out to you, again. facing SSD was the hardest part for my son, scarier than anything else, even the facial paralysis. but he has already begun to grow accustomed, and he seems satisfied that at least he can now say "i HAD a brain tumor" in past tense.