#22 - On deaf ears

“I told you all this last week!”

Have you ever said this with a tinge of annoyance in your voice, or been on the end of that annoyance?

“You never listen to me!”

Maybe sometimes a brain uncontrollably starts thinking about something else or is distracted by an event outside of your realms of control.

“Dad, dad… DAD! You didn’t get me my crackers [you absolute piece of shit for a human]!” my daughter says far too regularly.

I was going to sort of segue/shoehorn this into some kind of commentary on the futility of complaining to mega corps about anything when they simply want to maximise profits, but instead I’m going to give you a detailed rundown of my recent ear wax removal appointment. Enjoy.

Having been on the receiving end of repeated sighs of desperation from my family as I once again turn my head to hear better and say “sorry, what did you say?” I’d attempted to book an ear wax removal appointment at my local Specsavers for well over a month - things had reached breaking point. After facing page and page of the booking diary telling me there were no appointments, I checked at the end of last week. I expected the worst, but like a candle burning bright amongst a sea of, erm, melted wax, a 10 am slot was available. I booked it. The time of deafness was soon to be over.

In the days that followed the booking my hearing actually got worse. I was using medical oil daily to soften the wax, and this resulted in my right ear becoming as blocked as my left had been for the last month. I attended a BBQ for OAPs (yes, the second OAP BBQ I’d been to this summer) and felt right at home, nodding politely to everyone while having no clue about what was being said, my daughter cooling me with her new silent hand fan. Maybe this is the blissful ignorance that comes with retirement?

Fast forward to Monday morning and I felt trapped in my own head. I tend to feel this a little when wearing glasses (need for work), but with both ears only capable of picking up loud sounds the effect was way worse. 10 am couldn’t come quickly enough.

After a very typical and expected battle with my kids to get them ready to leave the house, which may have included the rather desperate sounding cry of “Can’t you just let me do something for me for once without making it a complete nightmare?!” we did end up leaving and arrived on time. It’s fair to say that I had become irritable.

“You’ve brought the whole gang,” Mr Ear Man said as we arrived.

“Yes,” I replied. “They want to see all the gory action.”

I sat on a high spinny stool chair. It wasn’t that comfortable, but beggears can’t be choosears (not sure if that joke works on any level, but it’s staying in!). Mr Ear Man proceeded to run through the things that could go wrong, none of which sounded any worse in the moment than essentially being deaf - although a pierced eardrum would have been less than ideal.

“None of that is going to happen with me,” Ear Man said. “I’ve been doing this for 20 years.”

I felt comforted.

Ear Man introduced the suction device, a long metal straw that was connected to a whirring box, sort of like a Henry Hoover for the ears, but without the face.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” said Ear Man, “but it might make you cough.”

I immediately let out a cough before the straw had got anywhere near my ear.

“I’m doing my coughing now to get it out of the way,” I joked.

There was no laughter. Perhaps because of what Ear Man had seen in my ear using his special ear camera.

“Hmmm,” uttered Ear Man. “That’s very, very blocked, and the wax is further back than usual. It’s right on top of your eardrum.”

“Oh,” I say, not really sure if I should be apologising or not. “What does that mean? Can you not clear it?”

“No, I can clear it, I hope. It’ll likely hurt, though.”

No “might” or “a little” there, you might notice. Just plain old “hurt.” What choice did I have?

My five-year-old daughter, clearly an empath, who had been sitting fanning herself with her silent fan, touched my knee to offer some reassurance.

After spraying about a gallon of oil into my right ear, Ear Man began the procedure. It’s an odd feeling to have something suck out the inside of your ear canal, I guess sort of comparable to that suction device that is used when you have any dental work carried out. It’s awkward, uncomfortable, and ideally something you want to be over and done with as quickly as possible.

“Let’s try the other ear,” said Ear Man, not giving me high hopes. His hand lifted high as if about to slash down repeatedly.

“Fuck,” I said, involuntarily, as nuggets the size of the crumbs left behind when you cut a bagel in half came out of my ear. “Sorry, I mean, that’s a lot.”

“That’s not even half of it,” added Ear Man. “I’m surprised you had any hearing at all.”

“Sorry, what did you say?” I blurted out, desperate to land at least one joke.

“Do let me know if it starts to hurt,” he continues. Ear Man is all business, and I respect him for it.

So far, so good. About as painful as a finger prick, except over and over - I was managing. But as my left ear was fully cleared, multiple nuggets appearing on the bench next to me, it was time to go back to my troublesome right ear.

“I reckon this has been there for over 12 months,” Ear Man says while surveying the wax, which I assume is a build up to gently explaining why he can’t clean it. I catastrophise a whole operation in the single second that passes.

“Keep very still,” he says. He’s going back in. What a relief!

I squeeze my right hand around my left, and defensively close my eyes. He was right, it did hurt. It hurt a lot. I think I now have an idea of the pain felt by goons in action movies that get an icepick stabbed into their ear.

“I’ve never seen it like this before,” Ear Man announces.

I feel special, yet also embarrassed.

“Your ear canal is much more angled than I normally see. It’s hard to get up there.”

The compliments keep on coming. This isn’t the first time I’ve been unintentionally shamed while sitting in a procedure chair. My old dentist told me that I had the teeth of a small child with a mouth so narrow she struggled to get to the rear molars. That 100% absolutely did not leave a lasting scar on how I see myself. Not. At. All.

Anyway, Ear Man wasn’t giving up. He was a pro. 

“I can stop now if you want,” he said, clearly noticing how I clenched every time the straw started attacking the wax. “I think I can get it, but it’s very hard and wedged in.”

“No,” I say. “Please just get it done if you think you can.”

A few minutes later, my eyes watering and my ear canal resembling a scene from 24 Hours in A&E, it was done. I look at the photos showing the newly cleaned ears. Ear Man goes through some bits and pieces, and I sort of just sit there staring into the distance.

“You’re all done,” he says, clearly unsure why I’m still sitting there, unaware that I’d put myself into a state of tranquillity.

“Oh, sorry, I zoned out a bit.”

“I’ll help you down the stairs, Daddy,” says my daughter. Seemingly Ear Man had said I might be a little off-balance.

On the way home I pause for a moment as I feel like we’re being followed. I couldn’t see anyone, so we continued on. But then I heard the noise again, right behind and seemingly getting closer. This will make a fun blog, I think to myself, assuming I’m not bundled into the back of an unmarked van. Not much chance of a ransom being paid given the £50 a month this newsletter makes! But maybe it’ll be the catalyst it needs, I ponder, seeing the positive!

It turned out that I just hadn’t heard our own footsteps while walking in so long due to the deafness, and the sound spooked me. It was a day of rediscovering things. When we returned home I instantly made a coffee, and the bean grinding almost blew my head off. Toilet paper makes a sound when crumpled. The reason I’d be telling my podcast co-host that he sounded quiet became apparent. My kids haven’t been watching videos on the iPad at a reasonable volume.

Oh, and that silent fan my daughter has. It’s not. It sounds like a jet engine. Sorry everyone who has been forced to have it inches from their face in the last week.

Anyway, I’m now all ears. What were you saying?

Once again I’ve most been gaming this week through my kids. While my son is still working his way through Indiana Jones and the Great Circle, my five-year-old daughter has got in on the action with Bluey: The Videogame. Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t a brilliant video game, but it’s her video game. It lets her move about in a 3D space without any fear or negative repercussions, it teaches her how to jump onto platforms, and it has objective markers. As a first proper video game, it’s not bad at all. I love this for her.

Let’s not pretend this newsletter is about video games - in fact, this one was a horror story about my ear wax removal procedure. I’ll have a think about some other bits and pieces and round them up in the quick reviews below. I’m a critic, too, you see.

Things I can review:

• Robin Hood: Prince of Thieves (Prime Video): While I largely think this film isn’t near as exciting as I remember it being as a child, what struck me most is how much it gets away with as a PG. Well, I’m sure it was a PG when I saw it aged 9. There’s a sexual assault, lots of bloody violence, and even the use of the word “fuck.” None of that changes what I think is a fairly bland film. The Bryan Adams music video is better. 2 arrows out of 5 american accents.

• Mini Golf (Netflix): One of the best things about Netflix’s games offering is that they tend to be playable by just about everyone - which is something rare in video games these days. As such, even my daughter is able to play the likes of Mini Golf, a game which simply places a putter onto your phone screen that you’re able to move back to adjust power and aim. Simple. She loves it. We all love it. Sometimes things don’t have to be complicated to be good fun. 5 Stranger Things monsters out of 5 Bridgerton dresses.
• Starbucks cloud frap (Starbucks): I’ve tried two of these now, and I can now say that either the barista didn’t make them very well or they are a complete waste of money. I’m not too snobby to enjoy a Caramel Macchiato and their vegan breakfast roll (as mentioned last week), but this slightly enhanced milkshake range isn’t doing anything for me. 2 whirs in the blender out of 5 shots of coffee.