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Published
in Gulf News, April 10, 2007
Ring, ring.
It's your ear calling
One
day, I did something very out of character. I handed my wife a box
of matches, stuck a hollow candle into my ear, and asked her to
light it.
For
all that I seem to go from one minor medical problem to another
(I promise to spare you the details) and am regarded as a bit of
a hypochondriac by the family, I'm big on letting things run their
course. I usually wait until I'm delirious before popping the paracetamol,
or call the doctor for an appointment only as the gangrene starts
to set in.
Then
there are injections. At the movies, I blithely watch scenes of
chainsaw killings, scythe wieldings and even the sewing up of open
wounds, but turn into a shivering wreck with his hands over his
eyes the instant a hypodermic needle appears. Television features
on immunisation drives are my horror movies.
On
the whole, I'd say I'm suspicious of treatments. I rarely tinker
until I've done the research. And the research usually suggests
that it's better to spend money on rock albums than on an extract
of herbs that promises immunity and extra-sensory perception.
But
when a friend left us a box of ear candles, I didn't stop to think.
I've always suspected that my hearing isn't what it should be, and
decided that this now-mainstream folk treatment would set things
right. (My mother, however, has always asserted that my ears are
fine, and I don't hear simply because I don't pay attention.) While
I dismissed the claims that ear candles extracted toxins and "bad
energy", I willed myself to believe that they really did extract
ear wax. I should have thought about it. If the tiny pressure from
a burning candle could do the job, then we'd have earwax bullets
ricocheting around airplanes every time they took off. Those candles
don't generate enough differential for even the tiniest ear pop.
Having
a burning candle stuck in your ear is strangely relaxing though.
There's a feeling of warmth, and a crackling sound that soon goes
from downright terrifying to vaguely unsettling. After the candle
has burned down, its base can be opened up to reveal a brown powdery
substance that proponents of the process say is earwax and toxins.
However, various health websites suggest that it's just residue
from the candle itself. They go on to list some of the horrible
things that can go wrong with ear candling. The worst is the possibility
of hot wax (from the candle) dripping onto the eardrum and burning
a hole in it. Other possible results include burns from hot ashes,
clogging of the ear canal with candle wax, infection, perforation
of the ear drum and the onset of tinnitus.
I suppose
I should be grateful that it was only tinnitus that I got. My right
ear obviously has no faith in folk treatments and crackled in annoyance
for a couple of days after the candling. Then, clearly still upset,
it began squealing. Non-stop. It wouldn't drown out the television
or anything, but when things got quiet, its shrill ringing would
drill right through my brain. Some nights, I thought long and hard
about a gentleman named Vincent Van Gogh.
Ear
drops and tablets reduced the noise in the end. In the course of
treatment, I also learned that my hearing is perfectly normal. This
means I didn't stick those candles in my ears because I couldn't
hear properly, but because I wasn't paying attention. My mother
had been right all along.
Oh,
and that playing with fire thing mothers tell you about? That makes
a lot of sense as well.
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