Week three.
My ears keep ringing (especially the left one), and my ear-jaw connection on the left remains tight. But maybe it's not as bad as earlier? Or maybe I'm getting used to it? It's hard to tell.
A friend of mine at church calls me her "accountability partner"; we meet up once a month to recite to one another the scripture that we've been working on memorizing. I've been working on Psalm 33, which in short is basically about how God, not us, is in control of things. The conjunction of practicing this particular psalm with my ringing ear comes together in this way: I'd been planning and planning (and planning) on how I'd have lovely "me time" and "quiet time" to do math and such this summer, and then life had other plans in store for me. My ringing ears becomes a reminder that I need also to take time to meditate and pray for reasons larger than myself. It's like a telephone bell in my head, calling me back to the source of grace and faith. So, I start praying quietly again -- which is hard because my head is ringing, but also that's kind of the point, right?
Also, I have more and more friends and neighbors tell me about their ringing ears and their allergies. As always, having community and reassurance is a big help. My friends give me recommendations for good allergists and ENTs.
Late in the week, I get a big test of how my head is doing: the Canadian wildfires send so much smoke this way that it's not a good idea to work outside where I can get ambient noise, and the internet in our house dies, so I can't pull up white noise on You Tube. And yet, somehow, I'm okay. Definitely, the ringing is getting less severe than before (although it's definitely still present, especially when I'm in quiet rooms).
Week four.
In the middle of the week, I get to see my doctor for my annual physical. I tell him about how bad I am at self-diagnosis, but that now I know it's neither DBT (deadly brain tumor) nor ear infection: it's allergies. He takes a peek in my ear canals and says, actually, it's ear wax. [So really, really, I am bad at self diagnosis!] The doc is not particularly good at empathy, I have to say; I keep getting the vibe that I'm petty for worrying about all this. I ask about visiting ENTs. He brushes that aside; he prescribes ear drops and tells me to come back in a week so he can irrigate my ears and check them again (earrigation?). The ear drops are a slightly stronger acidic mixture than hydrogen peroxide, he says, so I start telling people I'm dropping acid.
The noise hasn't gone away: I know that "glass" isn't a noise, but that's the way I describe it to myself. It's definitely becoming less annoying; sometimes I forget that my ears are ringing. I haven't used white noise You Tube in a while, and often I don't even play music while I'm working. That's a huge contrast from a few weeks ago, when I needed that extra noise just to keep my sanity.
Week five.
Maybe, the ringing is getting worse again? Ugh. I drop acid (rather, put ear drops in my ear) and continue with Flonase. I start music back up while I'm doing math.
On Tuesday, I head back to the doc, who squirts large quantities of cold (!) water mixed with hydrogen peroxide into my year. Noisy! When he's done, my ear is stopped up. He looks in my ear; there's still wax on the sides, he says, but my ear drum is clear. I tell him my ear is stopped up and I can't hear out of it. He looks at me like I'm a space alien -- this guy is really, really not good at empathy, I have to say again.
I shake my head to try to clear it. He asks if I'm dizzy . . . maybe? He asks if I can hear anything at all out of the ear, and I check: yes, but it's like I have ear plugs in. Or like getting water in my ear from back in my swimming days. I look at him, like, "can you fix this?" He asks, "Is there anything else you need from me today?" and I'm taken aback. Like, dude, when I walked into this office I could hear, and now I can't . . . I repeat that I can't hear out of that ear. He says he'll set me up with a referral for an ENT, but they're booked up and it might take a while, and I think about how last week I'd asked about ENTs and he brushed it off. Okay, this doc clearly, clearly missed the Intro to Empathy Class.
I bike home, and eventually, as I putter around, the water drains out and I can hear again. Phew. And the ringing returns. Dang it.
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