Meniere

Electrodes to the middle of my forehead made me feel like frankenstein. Other electrodes were placed just behind my ear. Then a man showed me a tiny stick that looked as though someone pulled wires apart at the end. Like a medieval paintbrush.

“I am going to insert this into your ear and touch your ear drum with this part”, pointing to the frayed end. “It will feel like some pressure and maybe pain … let me know.”

It was painful but to cry out would mean defeat. I gritted my teeth and held on. Then as electrical energy surged through my head a snapping sound got louder and louder.

Earlier I was isolated in a sound chamber and words were pumped into my ear. Some I understood and some I did not.  All in all a grueling morning of tests and torturous challenges.

Gloriously I made it to the end. I endured. Did I win? How did I do? I waited anxiously for the results. Like so many times after a mountain bike race. I have grown accustom to doing well and this time I expected nothing less.

The results came in later last night.  And I did not fair well.  I thought back to my path and what I could of done better. What were the signs of this failure?  How could I do better.  I should of never did that “ear drop trick” in my early 20s. I should of ducked every time a caretaker slapped me on the side of the head. Maybe not have used my head to slow a fall off the bike.

The best part of the results are buried deep in history. It confirms a friend should of believed me when I told them I could not climb in exposed situations. Everyone probably thinks it is my excuse when I cant balance as well as they. Or when I explain I cant handle heights. My victory is a I told you so of sorts. I am collecting data to overcome my next opponent. One called Meniere. I’m coming for you buddy.