After I gifted away this morning’s flag-filled Tie o’ the Day, I was only temporarily without neckwear. Of course, y’all know by now that I have plenty o’ patriotic ties and bow ties to choose from, so it wasn’t a problem to find this Tie o’ the Rest o’ the Day. I wore the “I VOTED” sticker on my forehead until I took this selfie. I made my voting sticker into an eyepatch, so I could be a pirate. Here’s a secret: If I made the rules of life, we’d all have to wear an eyepatch and play pirate at least once a week.
While my “I VOTED” sticker was still on my forehead, this second Tie o’ the Day and I had to scurry to Bountiful for my hearing appointment. I’ve worn a hearing aid in my right ear for almost two years now, and it does its job adequately. But now, I have tinnitus in my left ear which never shuts off its droning. It always sounds like water is running or the AM radio is static-ing in my left ear. If I experience the sound of silence at all, it is when I’m asleep. But that doesn’t count, cuz I’m asleep and don’t know what I am or am not hearing.
Anyhoo… Today at my hearing appointment, Dr. Earlobe—which is what I’ll call him—tested my hearing thoroughly. The good news is that my right ear hasn’t gotten worse since I got my hearing aid. The verdict on the tinnitus is what I knew it would be: I’m stuck with that. Ain’t no cure for the tinnitus, but we can likely manage it a bit. The bad news is that my left ear’s hearing ability is now where my right ear’s hearing was two years ago—way back when I first needed the hearing aid. Yup, I am soon going to be nicknamed Four Ears. In two weeks, I will be wearing hearing aids in both ears.
Look, I’m not griping when I talk about my medical woes o’ aging. I am simply sharing stories with y’all about whatever decrepitude is crepitating on/in my body at any given time. It’s just life. You know as well as I do—if you’re old enough—you will wake up with some new bone creak or varicose vein tomorrow. And tomorrow, and tomorrow,/ Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,/ To the last syllable of recorded time;/ And all our yesterdays have lighted fools the way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!/ Life is but a walking shadow, a poor player/ That struts and frets his hour upon the stage/ And then is heard no more. It is a tale/ Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury/ signifying nothing./
Sorry ’bout that. I guess I went all Macbeth, thinking about how our bodies fall apart on us and how we might as well be zombies with crumbling bodies in our old age. 🤡
BTW See how I managed to write some highfalutin’ Shakespeare into a story about the ringing in my left ear? That felt good. ✍️ 💻 🤓
Out, out damned spot!