Shropshire Star

Rhodes on feeling Christmassy, vacuuming ears and job satisfaction at the surgery

Read the latest column from Peter Rhodes.

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Ear we go again

Happens every year, doesn't it? The big day is almost upon us and you suddenly think you don't feel in the least Christmassy. And then something Christmassy happens.

I was wandering back from the doctor's surgery when I bumped into two neighbours. We chatted for a few minutes and were getting into a good old gossip when our ways should have parted. Instead, I invited them for a socially-distanced hot rum punch in the garden. So we pulled up the garden chairs, quaffed the punch (dead easy: one measure rum, one Ribena, top up with boiling water) and chewed the fat for an hour. There was nothing earth-shattering about our chat, just a thoughtful reflection on a year of Covid and the hope of a better year to come. And by the time they had to leave, we were all a little richer in peace, goodwill and all that stuff. I am suddenly feeling very yulish. Bring on the mince pies.

What was I doing at the doctor? Kind of you to ask. I was having my ears vacuumed. As you may recall I went deaf in one ear during a nasty cold a few weeks back. Ear vacuuming, or microsuction as they call it, is the modern equivalent of ear syringing and, of all medical professions, must bring some of the highest levels of job-satisfaction.

Most medicine involves guessing what's the matter and prescribing something that may or may not fix it in a few weeks or months. The audiologist, in contrast, receives patients who say “pardon?” a lot, restores them to full hearing in about 20 minutes and has the physical proof of his labours in a surprisingly large pile of earwax. He seemed very happy in his work, and no wonder.

Newly ear-vacuumed, I wasn't aware of anything sounding louder than before but there was a new richness of being able to hear across a wider spectrum of noises and pick up background sounds. I was reminded of a description of a dog's sense of smell. While humans smell something and think “curry,” the dog smells 14 distinct and different ingredients of the curry. I now hear like a dog smells, so to speak.

The NHS letter inviting me for the ear session asked whether I'd prefer the letter in Braille. Curious.

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