Many years ago someone I used to know had her ears syringed at the doctor’s, and came out raving about the procedure, telling anyone who would listen it was way better than any sex or drugs. (She never mentioned chocolate though.)
Obviously, I quickly made getting my ears syringed a life goal. How could I pass up the opportunity to experience sex and drugs on the NHS?
Luckily, a few years after my friend’s experience, I felt a bit bunged up and trotted along to the doctors hardly able to contain my excitement. It was rather a let down, to say the least.
The nurse looked in both ears and said:
“Oh no, they’re lovely and clean, I can see right through to the ear drum.
“You are due a smear test though.”
Imagine my horror. My afternoon went from a glorious experience rivalling the finest in drugs and sex to the non-glamourous, rather painful bad deal that comes when lying down with your feet in stirrups while a stranger sticks a large cotton wool bud up your privates.
And so that was it. My dreams of joining the ear syringing league fell at the first hurdle and seemed to be forever dashed.
As a teenager I went to boarding school. As a lifelong light sleeper, sharing a dorm with several other girls was very challenging and I developed a penchant for wearing ear plugs. Not just any earplugs, the wax variety called Muffles from Boots are the ones that get to go anywhere near my lugs. And they work wonders. The cone-shape goes in, the vacuum sound enters my head and usually I sleep like a baby.
Over the years, concerned about the amount of wax literally melting into my head, I’ve weaned myself off two earplugs and on to one, sleeping on the side that isn’t wearing the plug. And because Baldy has a tendency to sleep facing me, doing his pushy sleep breathing on my face, I usually sleep away from him with the ear plug mostly in one side.
You’ve guessed it. Seriously, it could be 20 years since I first heard of the delight of ear syringing and possibly, just possibly I could be about to experience it.
This week I’ve also come down wth flu, which doesn’t help. But the last few weeks I’ve been waking up increasingly more deaf in that particular ear and for the past three days my hearing on that side has almost completely gone. It just sounds either like a very loud vacuum in there or like I’m standing next to an open window with a tropical storm going on outside. It’s almost painful, like there’s some serious pressure in there, but then that could be my flu-ridden head in general.
So, yesterday I made my first visit to our doctors since we moved here nearly three years ago. I knew immediately I was going to get on great with the GP, and she giggled away as I told her all about the life goal situation.
“Oh Izzy,” she said as she peered deep into my deaf lug. “I’m happy to tell you your dream is about to come true. There’s loads of wax in there!”
I punched the air in delight. But sadly my moment of beauty would have to wait.
I have to put drops of olive oil (doesn’t matter what sort – virgin, extra virgin, old tart, whatever) to soften the wax, every day for two weeks.
Ok. I’ve waited two decades. Two weeks isn’t going to kill me. Although the thought of being half-deaf for the next two weeks is a bit of a downer.
But I will be strong. The drops are going in. I WILL get my moment!