'LIVING WITH BEETHOVEN' by chris mills

THURSDAY
One minute I'm happily sat watching 'great British menu'. The next, I'm deaf in one ear. How's that fair?

Now as you can imagine, I was slightly alarmed by this. Even if the alarms were only partially heard in my now half working head. But soon the alarms stopped, the feeling turned to helplessness and then frustration and then sheer anger. I've always been a bit unfair on those that complain and over dramatise when they only have minor injuries, or so they seem. For example, broken a toe, sprained a wrist, pulled a muscle. But until you're actually forced to live your daily life without the aid of one of the above you don't realise how much you rely on them.

And let me assure you, it's the same with an ear full of wax.


FRIDAY
And so it began. The 'blog of a man who can only hear in one ear'. Admittedly it's not yet an internet favourite but you never know how things can catch on. That guy who shouts random abuse in his sleep somehow gets five million hits a day now. I'm not quite sure how interesting I'll be able to make this but if all else fails pity is more than welcome.

I rang the doctor's before work. "Can I have an emergency appointment to see Dr Thrippleton please?"

The receptionist paused and then replied "Dr Thrippleton has a very busy schedule today, what exactly is the problem?"

"I've gone deaf" (sort of the truth)

"See you at 9.30".

It wasn't going to take an expert to diagnose this one, unless it was in fact some sort of sex toy that had miraculously managed to get lodged in there. How would I have explained that one? I don't even own a sex toy. Such fears evaporated when he confirmed it was in fact wax and that I had to make an appointment to see the nurse and have my ear syringed. Thinking this would be a piece of cake and I'd be able to see her the same day was naive. "Tuesday? Is that really the earliest available?" Fucks sake.

SATURDAY
My deafness had kindly coincided with the death of Grimsby Town FC. Today I was committed to driving to Burton to see the Mariners either stay up in the clubs finest hour since, well the last time we narrowly survived relegation, or to see the clubs lowest ebb since, well the last time we were relegated. Thankfully sitting in the driver's seat meant my friend was to the left of me and I could hear him. Unfortunately the only speaker that currently worked in my car was to the right of me. Cue an awkwardly balanced six hours of driving and Crowded House classics.

Town lost, we were relegated from the football league and our fans were shamed in every national paper for fighting with police on the pitch.

SUNDAY
Still no movement in the wax stand off. I didn't realise how difficult it could be trying to sleep solely on one side all night.

The nurse had told me to put OLIVE OIL in my ear twice a day until Tuesday. Was that some kind of in house joke that all first time hearing-loss victims fall for or could OLIVE OIL actually be the answer to all my problems? Not life in general obviously, just ear related problems mainly. I doubt rubbing olive oil all over my body prior to a date could get me wanked off. No harm trying though...

MONDAY
Date was a disaster. Didn't get wanked off. Didn't even get to desert, the poor girl couldn't bear the smell, or sight, any longer.

Went to the pub quiz with two mates to try and drown my sorrows but couldn't even hear the guy calling out the questions. Needless to say my input was minimal. Their new game afterwards 'in the box' was a total shambles and cheered me up temporarily. Some old bird won a mobile DJ set and a rather disgruntled chap won a disposable BBQ.


TUESDAY
The day of reckoning was upon me, thank god.

Work was becoming unbearable. I was having to turn up every phone call to the max just so I could hear the person on the other end. The constant feeling of being in your own little world was starting to distract my concentration and I was being ridiculed for arriving every morning with cotton wool stuffed in my ear. Any sympathy had worn off long ago. I arrived at the clinic in an optimistic mood. The low lives sat in the waiting room tried bringing me down but I made a point of sitting on my own in the corner just so the young receptionist didn't associate me with any of the actual ill people. But why else would I be here if there wasn't something wrong with me? She knew.

I got called in and we get straight onto it, no foreplay. The nurse tells me to shout if it starts to hurt and she'd stop. I'm not sure if those first two sentences have set the scene appropriately, but never the less she's soon shoving an instrument in my ear and blasting what seems like gallons of hot water into my ear. It really is like nothing else I've experienced before and difficult to describe. Imagine drowning and your head caving in and you'd be in the right ballpark. She stops and starts for about ten minutes, occasionally checking for movement, but I'm left gutted when she says the wax is still too hard and I'll have to return on Friday to try again. I stopped at the supermarket on the way home and stocked up on olive oil. Never did I think I'd rely on such a product so much. It had become my life support machine. It's slightly heated goodness bubbling and cracking away. Go on olive oil my son, fuck up that wax.

WEDNESDAY
Everyone becomes a comedian. I ask someone a question. "Pardon" is the response. Brilliant, well done.

THURSDAY
My ear popped earlier and for a split second I thought I could hear again. For a split second life was amazing again, I could hear the birds singing and the wind whistling. But then it was cruelly taken away from me and the dull ringing returned. I watch 'great British Menu' a week on and reminisce of last week's episode in surround sound. I'm becoming tired of this now.

FRIDAY
Take two. I'm back at the sex clinic. Different receptionist, little chunkier. Same nurse, more hot water. The feeling doesn't seem quite as horrific this time round, I'm a little more use to the incoming tide and I squeeze my leg as she intensifies the power. I feel popping and pain as she nears my ear drum but there is no way I'm admitting defeat again and stay quiet. After what seems like an eternity she checks for one final time and utters the immortal line "yep that's clear". I could have kissed her. In fact I think I did as I was quickly removed from the surgery by a burley security guard. But I didn't care because it felt as if I could have heard a pin drop hundreds of miles away. It felt like I could have heard the Atlantic Ocean lapping against America's shores. It felt like I could have heard the engines of an aeroplane 30,000 feet above me. So I hopped and skipped back to the car. Bit gay, I know.

Let it be known that never have I felt such a relief to merely return back to normality. Never underestimate the genius of your ears, there is a reason we have two of them.