Do you want to know how I got these scars – Part two

I tell myself that I am a lucky person, because I have figured out the key to my life: F-sharp, or sometimes G-flat, depending on my mood. It’s the tone that accompanies my day, every moment of my waking life, and deep into the hours I spend asleep.

Ten years ago, the living mechanism that transmits sounds from my right ear to my brain was purposefully destroyed. What may be most surprising about this violent and irreversible act is that when it happened and I lost my hearing on one side forever, I was more grateful than I ever have been in my life. This is because it quite literally saved my life.

But I’d be lying if I said I don’t still feel the loss. I feel it every day, some days to the point of tears, because I’m reminded of it every day, every second of my life — loudly.

Press play to hear what tinnitus sounds like. Remember to turn up the sound on your device. Be careful – the sound can be loud and irritating. This audio is the best approximation I could find of the constant ringing sound I personally “hear.” My personal volume is set between six and seven. Audio file courtesy of American Tinnitus Association 

It’s true that the mechanism of my inner ear, called the labyrinth, cannot transmit any sound to my brain — not even a nuclear blast would register even the tiniest audio signal in my right ear because my labyrinth on that side doesn’t function. Still, the brain is nothing if not inscrutable at times, and often responds to signal changes in unpredictable ways.

The day my right ear went deaf to external sounds, I began to “hear” a new sound from within. I began to hear, quite clearly and loudly, the sound of F-sharp (or G-flat), ringing true and high above a constant haze of static noise. So far my brain has held that note uninterrupted for ten years. I’m placing my bet that it will hold for the rest of my life. I hope it lasts a long, long time.

The doctor called me the morning after my MRI scan. Her voice was calm and soothing but purposeful. “I’d like you to come in so we can review the results of your MRI together. Does 2:30 this afternoon work for you and your wife to come in? Very good, I’ll see you then.” She said more than just these words during the call. But of all her carefully framed expressions, these left the most vivid and indelible impressions on the canvas of my memory. We immediately made arrangements for my parents to watch our children, and made the journey to the doctor’s office that afternoon.

They’re passé now, but there was a time when everyone wanted a flip-phone. They were the ultimate in hip and sleekness, a major upgrade from the old “brick” phones. Being able to call people up whenever you wanted, from wherever you were in any given moment — that was an awesome new freedom. And flipping it open and shut was such a cool feeling, like having a Star Trek communicator (if you’re into that), or like being an international jet-setter closing million dollar deals from the deck of your yacht (if you’re into that).

Back in those days, I mainly used my flip-phone to take photos of my children and to talk to my wife while I commuted long miles home from work. My boys were very young at the time, and talking to my wife about the events of their day was by far the best part of my long, slow evening drive across the bridge over San Francisco Bay. Back then, there were no “hands-free” driving laws. In bumper-to-bumper traffic, every other driver had a phone stuck to the side of their face, myself included. It was awesome, and more dangerous than anyone knew at the time.

The other awesome (and dangerous) thing about flip-phones was the camera. I loved being able to take as many pictures as I wanted without developing every shot. Plus, I could upload and share pictures with others — that was a completely new and amazing freedom back then. I started my Facebook account for the sole purpose of uploading photos of my kids, because it was the easiest way to get the photos out of my flip-phone and onto a computer.

john-and-myles-July-2008
John and Myles eating apples shortly after my surgery in 2008.

Some people think that cell phones can cause brain tumors. Others have gone to great lengths to assure us that they don’t. I personally don’t think that modern cell phones pose a significant risk of brain tumors. To be honest, I wonder but don’t know how much risk there was ten or twelve years ago, back in the wild-and-woolly days of flip-phones.

One thing I remember very clearly is the warm sensation I would feel deep inside my ear after talking on my flip-phone for a long time. But that may simply have been because the phone was warm, and my ear was warm, and two warm things tend to warm each other up even more, when they’re held closely to each other.

Cell phones are a truly great and revolutionary human invention. There seems to be no limit to the technological advancement the human race is capable of achieving. I hope and believe in my heart that this statement is true. I hope that it stays true, and comes true. If within my lifetime the next great human invention is an actual working time machine, one of the first things I’d use it for would be to go back in time to 2005 and tell past-me to never put a flip-phone to my ear ever again. Just to be safe.

“This is an impressive room,” I blurted out through a murky yet uniquely crisp haze of hospital-grade sedative. The operating room gave me the impression of a space capsule’s cockpit, with densely arranged lights and stainless steel instruments and complicated gauges and monitors crowding the walls and suspended from the ceiling all around, except this rocket ship’s cockpit was the size of a living room and everything was focused on a large white operating bed in the center. The room was filled with at least a dozen surgeons in blue surgical gear and masks, standing elbow-to-elbow each at his or her respective station and instruments. They all turned their heads and faced the doorway when I entered the room clothed in a hospital gown and uttered my comment. They paused for only a fraction of a second before turning their backs to their preparations.

Part three: https://cityliteral.com/2017/09/04/do-you-want-to-know-how-i-got-these-scars-part-three