One day as I was talking on the phone, I unwittingly transferred the handset from my left ear to my right ear and suddenly the voice from the other end seemed faint and distant. Unable to converse, I switched the handset back to my left side and my hearing was back. When I told my friends and family about the experience, they goaded me to see an ear, nose and throat doctor (ENT). I went, reluctantly.
An audiogram revealed severe hearing loss in my right ear as a result of the hardening of the stapes bone in my inner ear, which was preventing external sound waves from entering the ear. In medical parlance this is known as otosclerosis and the ENT said only stapedectomy surgery would restore my hearing.
The thought of surgery sent shivers down my spine and the excessive cost involved scared me even more, but with reassurance and health insurance, I was able to do it. My audiogram after the surgery indicated a big improvement in my hearing. However, later at home, I could barely note any change in my hearing and, on the contrary, as days and months passed I found it even harder to hear.
Then one Sunday morning while I was working on my computer, I sensed a faint ringing emerging from inside my operated ear. It must be my imagination, I thought, and waited patiently for the ringing to fade. It persisted the whole evening and made me sit up in bed all night. I waited and waited for the ringing to end but it refused to go away. The next morning I rushed to the ENT and to my dismay, he declared my operated ear as good as dead and the ringing was a symptom called tinnitus, for which medical science has yet to find a cure.
The news hit me like a bomb! The doctor prescribed tablets, which were nothing more than tranquillizers to calm my rampaging nerves. The following days were most agonizing and trauma-filled. My ear bellowed relentlessly, varying in intensity and tone. Sometimes it sounded like water rippling down a stream and other times like a whistle blowing the lid off a pressure cooker.
The paradox was that I couldn’t even grieve over my misfortune because any amount of stress would increase the ringing. In the pin-drop silence of the night while the world slept, I would remain awake struggling to keep my mind off the ringing. Besides the ringing, I also had to cope with my hearing loss. Listening became a painstaking exercise.
Most of the time, I would simply nod my head without understanding what I heard. Remaining mum seemed sensible and a way to avoid embarrassment and becoming a laughingstock. Ironically, the whole world was going global and boasting of faster and easier communication but my world was slowly closing in on me and communication was shutting down. I saw my ringing as having complete sway over me and my life drifting away.
Then one day I resolved to fight it out. The first thing I did was to give up tranquilizers before I became dependent on them. I plunged into my work and stood up to my shortcomings. During trying moments, I sought solace in writing, reading and photography. I turned to yoga and meditation, which helped me maintain my mental balance.
“You live only once, so why not make the best of it?” I keep saying when I am laid down with the high ringing. I attempt to make others laugh and in the process sneak some laughter for myself. I have set some goals for myself, incluiding helping others without expecting anything in return. And the biggest difference I have made is realizing that the ringing in my ears is going to be with me whether I like it or not, so why not accept it and make it my companion.
Three years have passed since I was affected with tinnitus and lost hearing in my one ear. I have come a long way since then, leading a simple, limited and cerebral life. My ringing, like my inner soul, I keep to myself.
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