An Earful

I’m in San Diego for a whirlwind of doctor appointments for Dad, and we’ve have had some strange moments. I arrived to find his hearing aid wailing in high pitch, then attempted to fix it. Cleaning, replacing the tubing, chatting with customer support and learning how to program the various modes made no difference. I asked him how long this noise had been going on, he had no idea but he did mention he was losing friends. Although it drove me nuts, we went on with our errands and binge meals, even had time to hang out at the beach to watch the bikini-clad girls play volleyball. We saw the retina specialist, the dentist, the primary care doctor. Sid is recovering nicely from his fall and is trying to gain back enough balance to use his cane instead of a walker. After trying to navigate the local pub at happy hour, he realized that wasn’t such a hot idea. All through these adventures the screeching continued; I was getting used to it.

I did ask a nurse today to clean his ears, since he tends to pile up wax and I thought maybe it would help. She stopped the procedure mid-stream, called in the geriatrician, who peered into his ear canal and said “hey we’re sending you to an Ear Nose and Throat guy.” Then he had me use the magnifying glass, which was flattering but I had no idea what to look for – maybe pickle remnants? We managed to get an appointment right away – the same day! – and sure enough, lodged inside Dad’s ear canal was an old plastic plug that had separated from his hearing aid, complete with an inch of waxy crud. All I could think about was that movie where the insects crawl into people’s ears and eat their brains. His device didn’t work correctly because with a new plug it was unable to make contact past a barrier of debris. The ENT doc referred to it as the “yuck factor” in his field and said it wasn’t uncommon. Apparently he’s extracted all sorts of things from ear canals, including grasshoppers.

Dad’s hearing is much improved now. I’ve encouraged him to inspect his hearing aid each night to make sure it doesn’t have more or less parts than the picture on the box. We ate dinner in blissful silence.