Solved: Not earwax. Not a burst eardrum either.
This article is personal experience, not medical advice.
Something wasn’t right. I’d got blind drunk the night before, but it wasn’t the hangover that was the problem.
I fumbled around the and found my glasses. I put them on. Nope, my eyesight was normal.
There was a rumbling and it didn’t sound right. I got out of bed and put my dressing gown on, before heading for the living room.
I looked out the living room window. What a sorry sight. When I moved in there was a pub opposite. It might surprise you, but I never went in there. It closed a few months after I moved in, and had witnessed a few barney’s from my lofty position: it was as rough as anything. After being empty for years it was finally demolished – I had been tempted to lay in front of the bulldozer, after all, a pub is a pub. And now they were building a block of flats. What a sad end. But I had now worked out what was wrong: I was deaf in one ear.
Had I accidentally pushed earwax in too deep? I decided to get some ear drops from Boots. I wasn’t actually that far away and didn’t have to cross a major road, but I was disoriented – I couldn’t work out where sounds were coming from, and I also felt a bit off-balance. It was only one ear affected, but it felt very significant.
I got back to the flat with ear drops and followed the instructions: tilt your head on one side, insert the drops, shake head from side to side, then empty your ear into the sink. I looked at the content of the sink.
Blood.
If I ever write a book about my experiences, I am going to insist that the cover should have “DON’T PANIC” in large, friendly letters on the front.
I vaguely recalled having a major coughing fit the previous night. Had I shattered my eardrum? I’m not a complete moron – I better go see my GP for this one.
I saw a doctor at my local surgery. They took my blood pressure.
“Hmm. It’s a bit high,” said the doctor. As for my hearing, yes, there was blood in my ear. I was referred to a hospital in a nearby city which had a large specialist ENT unit.
As with most hospitals, it was on the outskirts, miles away from the train station and I hate taking buses. They prescribed some eardrops. I tried the pharmacy opposite the hospital and they couldn’t help me, so I had to go back home and get the prescription from Boots.
It may have been as long as six months, visiting the city hospital every four weeks to check my hearing and get a repeat prescription for the eardrops and to me it seemed there was little, if any, improvement.
On one visit, I was given a local anaesthetic before a camera was inserted up my nose to look at my eardrum from the inside. It tickled a little and felt odd, but it wasn’t painful.
And then, finally, I perceived an improvement on the day of what turned out to be my final ENT appointment.
The doctor seemed to be pretty stressed out and told me the junior doctors working for her were useless. She then looked at me with a fake, sycophantic smile. Doctor Fawlty, I presume?
She explained that I had fluid on the eardrum which had reduced my hearing in my ear by forty percent. It was dissipating and my hearing would soon be back to normal.
This happened nearly ten years ago. I’ve recently been diagnosed with a large hiatus hernia, and an associated slew of issues including acid reflux and Barrett’s oesophagus. Potential cause of hiatus hernia? A coughing fit.
Hospital Radio
Today’s prescription: one carefully curated playlist. The connections aren’t always obvious . . .
- It’s Oh So Quiet by Bjork
- Hush by Kula Shaka
- Don’t Leave Me This Way by The Communards
- The Sound of Silence by Paul Simon
In the Waiting Room
Film and TV Guide
- The Hitchhikers Guide to The Galaxy
- Fawlty Towers