So, we were getting settled in our place in Key West. We were staying in a beautiful house in the Truman Annex near the post office (a gated community right next to everything in Old Town). Terre had his rental car until the afternoon, so we headed off to the store to grab a bunch of groceries to go along with the massive stash of beer, wine, mixers and booze Deb and he had picked up the day before.
Tom, Terre and I wandered around the store picking up a few things, criss-crossing each others' paths as we tried to figure out where everything was kept. We returned to the house and put everything away, and Terre, Deb and Rae went to return the car and hoof it back the 3 miles from the airport.
When they got back, we had a little while to get ready for a sunset Valentine's dinner at the Westin Hotel, which is right in the middle of the best sunset viewing in Key West. My ears were a little itchy, so when I saw Tom with his cotton swabs, I borrowed a couple and went for the first ear.
This gets a little descriptive, so if you're at all uneasy about this sort of thing, you may want to skip ahead a bit.
Now, I'm used to Q-Tips... and these were not those. You wouldn't believe what a small difference can mean. I only really meant to hit the sides of the ear canal, dipping the tip just inside the final fold of my ear. But I didn't adjust for the difference, and the swab ended up slipping way deeper than I intended.
"Fuck," I said quietly as I ran up to our bedroom and into the master bath. I couldn't hear a goddamn thing out of my right ear. I tried the swab again to see if I could release the pressure I felt from the wax that clogged the pathway to the tympanic membrane. No such luck. Instead, all I saw was a dirty swab, darker than I had seen before. Ick.
"Shit shit shit shit shit." I muttered to myself in the echoey cave of the bathroom, only hearing the upper ranges through my left ear. I resigned myself to knowing that I was pretty screwed for the night. I didn't realize it would be much longer until it could be fixed.
I did the other ear too, finding that there was just as much build up as in the other, though I didn't clog that one. I thought about it, and it had only been a few days since I last cleaned them. What was going on?
We headed off to the pier, watched a portion of the crazy cat guy's show before being seated for our dinner. It was good, but all during the meal I was distracted. I told Rae what I had done, and that hopefully it would get better before tomorrow.
The others found out about it that night and were sympathetic to my plight, mixed with some jokes of course. I would expect nothing less!
The next day we toured around the town and found a drug store, where I got (among other things) an ear wax removal kit.
When we returned to the house, I shot upstairs and read the instructions. Essentially, I had to tilt my head and keep the crap in there for "several minutes" and then rinse with warm water.
I tried it. No luck. I wondered if it was actually worse.
Then, I made the worst decision I could possibly make. And the worst part about it was that I knew it could be a very bad thing. I tried the other ear.
The liquid removed the build up from the canal all right. But because my head was tilted (I had been laying on my side on the bed), the pathway on my left side was now blocked. "Holy mother fucking cock sandwich." I could only hear the muffled tones inside my own head.
It was Sunday. All the doctors offices were closed. Monday was President's Day. All the clinics were closed. Through these next two days, I was busy reading lips and trying to make light of the situation. I could usually hear everyone facing me around the table at meals and in quiet rooms, but I struggled if someone turned their back on me.
I woke up in the middle of the night and looked at my phone. It was 3am Monday morning, and I had a terrible dream only to wake up to terrible silence. I knew that if I didn't get my hearing back, my whole life up to this point had been a waste. How can a guy who builds his career off of audio have ANY kind of hearing problem? I stayed awake for hours and mulled over the possibilities. They were dire, to say the least.
But I tried to be as normal as possible. Yes, being near deaf was a talking point, but I didn't want to dwell on it too much... though I'm sure I did. There are only so many ways to ask someone to repeat themselves. Eh? Pardon? What's that? Come again? What the fuck did you say?
Every day I hoped that somehow it would automatically get better. Monday we went on a boat ride for snorkeling, kayaking and sun. When I was in the water my ears seemed better, but it didn't last. As soon as I was on the deck, muffled sounds returned.
I had to get my ears fixed. Now. But that wasn't going to happen. The clinics wouldn't be open until Tuesday, my birthday. So I waited.
After brunch with the gang, Rae and I walked to urgent care a couple of miles away. We walked through the neighborhoods tourists rarely see. Small one stories houses on tiny lots dotted the broken pavement. Dogs barked as we passed them, and the occasional car or plumbing van passed by.
The whole time, I thought about my plight. But this time around I thought of the people I had been sharing it with, and how cool they had been. They really are a great group of caring folks, especially the wife. Rae has her own problems with hearing, so having her as my "hearing ear bitch" (as I jokingly called it) was probably a struggle for her at times too.
Hot, sunburned from the day before, a bit sweaty and breathing harder than normal from the quickened pace of the last 5 blocks, we arrived at the clinic. We waited in a tiny square room, with hard walls and a tile floor, a television playing reruns. I couldn't hear the people shuffling in their seats, the words falling from the tv's speaker, or the echoes slapping around the room as anyone did anything. I missed hearing room sounds.
Finally it was my turn. The first nurse asked what happened and plugged in my vitals into the computer. I told her everything, and she half-heartedly told me that cleaning my ears with a Q-Tip wasn't a good idea. I agreed, though I told her it probably wouldn't stop me from doing it again. She laughed a little and nodded.
The P.A. that came in next, checked it out and said, "Yep. That's wax." Thank you Sherlock. At least she was easy on the eyes. It always makes bad news easier when the person has their look together.
Then a nurse came in with a plastic tipped syringe filled with warm water and hydrogen peroxide. I held up a plastic tray to my head while she did the honors. The force of each squirt felt like a fucking fire hose. It didn't hurt, but I wondered if the solution was being trapped inside my head.
Finally, there was a crackle and my right ear cleared. It was exactly like turning the treble knob all the way to 11. It was beautiful. However, the nausea and dizziness that hit me as my ear re-pressurized was a bit much. I looked in the tray to see what it caught. Gross.
A few squirts in the left ear proved to be a success too. I was more than relieved. I was ecstatic. I waited again in the little room while they put my paperwork together and for a cab back to the house.
I heard the little speaker in the tv. I heard the skin of my hand passing along the fabric of the waiting room chairs. I heard the hard echoes of the room as people talked and worked. I heard the palms slapping in the breeze outside. I heard the radio in the taxi. I heard the lock of the door to the house click open. I heard my friends return from their adventures. I heard the wine bottle open, and I drank it all in.
TO BE CONTINUED....
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