Tinnitus: The Companion I Never Wanted

It's with me 24/7. An uninvited guest that refuses to leave. It's the first thing I'm aware of when I open my eyes in the morning. And at night, when I'm desperate to sleep, it taunts me with its persistent, high-pitch siren.

Sometimes, if I'm (un)lucky, I'll get a bonus thrown in—the tic-tock of a watch, the chirping of a bird, or the sizzle of an antacid tablet dissolving in water.

Often, I am burdened with the full symphony. That's when I bury my face into my pillow and cry.

My tinnitus started ten long years ago. I was 36 years old. Happily married, mom to a delightful four-year-old, and generally healthy.

Well, apart from that horrible cold I had one February day. I was feeling rather stuffed up, so I did what anyone would do.

I blew my nose.

Twice.

It was the second blow that sealed my fate. Within seconds, my right ear began to ring. I had a moment of panic, but then shrugged it off thinking it would disappear in a day or two with my cold.

Well, my cold left, but the tinnitus stayed.

I lived with the noise for two years before seeking any medical attention. Perhaps it was denial, maybe it was embarrassment. How do you explain to someone the racket that only you can hear?

There are, in fact, two types of tinnitus—subjective and objective. With subjective tinnitus, the person who experiences it is the ONLY person who hears it. It can be temporary (like the ringing in your ear after a concert) or it can last indefinitely. Basically, it’s the perception of a sound that has no external source.

Tinnitus isn't an illness in itself, but a symptom of another ailment. Most often, it is hearing loss. To quickly sum it up, it's a glitch in how the brain processes sounds around us.

Meanwhile, objective tinnitus is heard by the person who is experiencing it AS WELL AS an outside listener. This is most commonly caused by an involuntary twitching or spasms of several muscles within the ear.

My doctor listened to me as I explained my turmoil. She nodded sympathetically at the right moments, but it was clear that she didn't understand what life with tinnitus is really like.

I was referred to ENT for a hearing test and an MRI. The good news was that I didn't have an acoustic neuroma—a benign growth on the inside of the ear. (Tinnitus in only one ear can be a symptom of an acoustic neuroma, hence the importance of seeking medical advice should you experience one-ear tinnitus. It is rare, though. So don't worry.)

The not-so-good news was that I did have some hearing loss. Nothing major, just higher frequencies. There wasn't enough of a loss to do anything about it. As a result, I was simply dismissed from ENT and given a few pamphlets about tinnitus.

The pamphlets went straight into the bin soon after I arrived home. They contained the identical information I had already found on the Internet.

Information about tinnitus itself. Information about hearing aids. Information about maskers. A bit of information about reducing stress.

So I was basically back to where I started—feeling alone, frustrated, and ignored.

Fast forward eight years to today, and not much has changed. I've tried masking the noise with sounds of nature, soft music, meditation, and hypnosis—and to be honest, it only makes the ringing in my ear louder. The more I hear, the louder the tinnitus.

This, of course, makes some social situations challenging. Like chatting with friends in a cafe or meeting people at a cocktail party. Sometimes I don't want to go, because I know how difficult and awkward it can be. The louder the situation, the more my tinnitus fights to be heard.

Fortunately, I am just as stubborn as my tinnitus. I still go to concerts and the theater accompanied with a good pair of earplugs. The last thing I want to do is to further damage my hearing or aggravate my tinnitus. But I do want to live.

I often cringe when I see other people standing only a few feet away from a massive speaker, ears completely exposed to ridiculous sound decibels. I want to scream, "Why in the world are you doing that?" but sadly I'd be labelled as the crazy one.

Cut out sugar. Cut out caffeine. Lessen salt intake. Don't drink alcohol. Forget about chocolate ... These are just some of the suggestions that I've come across. These may work for some people, but for me it doesn’t make a difference. Plus a life with tinnitus AND no alcohol or chocolate is just the final straw!

The idea of getting a hearing aid is not a happy one. I participate in an online tinnitus forum and the hearing aid results so far are mixed.

Some people swear their hearing aids are the best thing that's happened to them and that the noticeability of the tinnitus has decreased. Others say pretty much the same thing for the first week or two, but then as the ears adjust to all the new sounds the aids help them to hear, the tinnitus "returns" with a vengeance. As desperate as I am for relief, I don't think I'm prepared to part with a four-figure amount just in case it works.

Yet.

And so I wait. I've waited ten years to hear silence again. I’ll wait ten more if I must. Whoever discovers a cure is going to be one hailed (and very rich!) individual.

It’s exhausting, though. The noise never goes away, it never softens, but there are times when it spikes to an unbearable level. I've waited so long for silence that I'm not even sure what complete silence is like anymore.

But I long for it. Along with the millions of other sufferers in the world, I long for the simplicity of silence.