Planes + Earwax = Very Bad (446 hits)
Category: GeneralRating: -0.67 on 3 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by DaBaddestHic <jtight.at.usa.com> (View user info) at 2004-08-13 00:45:08 EDT
A few days ago I partook in my final trip with just my mom and me before I head off to college. We were headed for Florida, and as usual, we opted to take a plane instead of undertaking the 10+ hour drive. I've flown enough times over the years that the whole process is rather perfunctory to me. Where I used to listen attentively to the stewardess explain the safety features of the aircraft, I now focus my concentration on the Sky Mall magazine found in all of the seats. Taking off used to fascinate me, but I never watch the runway fall out from under me anymore.
The ride down to Florida was just like any other. I perused the magazines in front of me while waiting for the signal that it was safe to turn on all electronic devices. I got through a whole Blank & Jones CD, taking turns reading and napping, and then popped in my Evanescence CD. After a few songs played out, I decided I wanted to write, so I fished my poetry-filled composition notebook out of my carry-on bag, and stared out the window waiting for inspiration to come.
The pilot announced that we were beginning our decent, and I was just noticing how flat the clouds were when a horrible pain erupted in the back of my left eye. I could feel my blood vessels filling up to their breaking points, and then bursting into my skull. Crimson red streaks entered my vision, and I quickly applied pressure to my left eye in hopes of stopping the blood flow. This only succeeded in allowing the blood to run down my arm, and I heard an old lady scream as she glanced over at my seat. I knew I was doomed, and ran through my head what could be happening. A stroke perhaps, or maybe a brain tumor had finally gotten too big and was trying to push my eye out of its socket.
Finally I lifted my hand from my head and realized that I had been greatly over exaggerating the situation. There was no blood coursing down my eye, although the pain was real. My mom asked me if I was ok, and I explained to her what seemed to be happening. I found that it hurt worse if I moved my eye, so I tried to focus on something straight ahead, or better yet, just keep my eyes closed. Eventually the pain moved down into my nose, although by this time it had settled down in intensity. By the time the plane landed the sharp pains were gone, leaving only a slight headache and a feeling as if my eye were strained.
This wasn't the first time I had had trouble with my head during a flight, but in times before it had only been in my ears, and had not been nearly as bad. I realized that it always happened as the plane was beginning to descend, although I didn't really know what this meant. The only thing I knew was that after my flight home I wouldn't be going on anymore flights; it just wasn't worth it.
Once at the hotel, I pretty much figured that the whole incident was over. My mom, however, thought otherwise. She spent a lot of time that first night worrying about me, asking me if my vision was ok, and dreading the upcoming flight home for what it might bring. Not being able to stand it, she called someone back home who had a little medical experience, and asked them their opinion. They said I should go see a doctor, since it had been my eye, just to make sure that everything was ok.
So that's how I found myself visiting the doctor's office on the second day of my vacation. I was rather annoyed with having to go; I felt that my mother was making too big a deal out of things, and I would have much rather have been sitting at the beach watching all the girls in bikinis walking around.
The doctor's office was actually a walk-in clinic close to the hotel. They proceeded to have me fill out a form with a bunch of stupid questions on it, all the while listening to one of the most idiotic TV shows I had ever heard in my life. It was some soap opera, and the dialogue between the three actors went something like this:
Father talking to some girl I assumed was his daughter: "Do you know what gay means?"
Daughter, who I think was supposed to be retarded in some way (at least I hope she was): "Well, in the movies made in the 50's it meant happy."
Some young woman, possibly the other daughter of the man: "Well nowadays it means homosexual - do you know what that is?"
Daughter: "I had sex-ed. So you're homosexual?"
Woman: "That's correct."
Daughter: "But that doesn't make sense, if you like other women then how did you get pregnant?"
Father: "Well honey, sometimes it's more complicated than that."
Daughter: "But it just doesn't make sense! Where is the father now?"
Woman: "He left before the baby was born."
Daughter: "How could he leave? Is he dead?"
Father: "We'll talk about this some other time, just let it rest for now."
Daughter: "But it doesn't make sense! (Yes, these words were annoying the hell out of me as well.) How did you get pregnant, and how did he die?"
Woman: "Shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!" (She was almost crying by this time.)
Daughter: "Yes I do, I had sex-ed! Now how did the father die?!?!"
Woman: "This is how he died, bitch!" The woman drew an Uzi out from under her shirt and proceeded to fill the retarded girl with at least 50 different bullet holes. In my opinion, she deserved every one of them.
Once the forms were all filled out I waited patiently for my name to be called. I didn't have to wait long before I was ushered to one of the examining rooms. I sat down on one of those long pieces of paper, and the nurse took my blood pressure before asking me what the problem was. I tried to explain as clearly as I could what I had went through the day before, but as I went on I got the impression that she thought I was an idiot for even coming in, since there were no long-lasting symptoms. Well nurse, you can blame that one on my mom.
She eventually quit the drilling and left, assuring me the doctor would soon be checking in. I looked around the room, noticing that there was a small TV which featured the Medical Room Network, or something along those lines. Somehow, I imagined that elderly patients were the only people who ever sat in the room and flipped through those channels.
The doctor walked in and was quite nicer than the nurse had been. He checked my eyes, nose, throat, and ears before commenting that my ears were blocked, which may have been the problem. He'd send someone in to flush them out and then check back up on me.
Once again I was left alone, and by now I was feeling like a bit of an idiot. Ears blocked huh...I mean, I knew that I had a little ear wax problem, but I hadn't thought it was such a big deal. In addition, I had no idea what flushing out the ears meant; I imagined the assistant coming in with some sort of medication to squirt into my ears, which would dissolve the earwax so it could leak out. It wasn't a very pleasant thought.
When the assistant did come in he was carrying a small metal bowl, a spray bottle of some fluid, and a plastic container. He explained that the plastic container was to hold under my ear as he squirted water into the small passages to rinse them out. Sounded harmless enough. I held the container firmly under my right ear so as to prevent any leaking, and waited for the squirting to start. The first drops were cold, but soon turned quite warm. It was a rather weird feeling to have the water invading my inner ear, and I wondered just how close my eardrum was to the strong blasts of fluid. It didn't hurt though, it was actually a pleasant feeling.
When he'd finished with the right ear he took the plastic container away to dump the contents into the metal bowl. As he did, I was able to look inside and see a rather disgusting stew of yellowed water and floating particles of burnt-orange colored earwax.
After my left ear was cleaned the assistant left, and I was alone in the examining room for the third time. I sat there and stared at the metal bowl of water. I couldn't see inside from where I was, and a large part of me wanted very strongly to get up and look inside. I quietly got up and crept over to the bowl, pleasing my manly urge to examine something that was revolting, and had come from my own body. Satisfied, I went back to my seat and waited for the doctor to come in. I was very relieved that all of the pain had been caused by a little earwax, and not something worse. Soon I found myself laughing to myself at the whole ordeal. Here my mom had been telling me my whole life to clean out my ears, and over the years I had simply ignored her, believing that the importance of the whole task was just another wife's tale, such as saying that washing your hands with warm water will help kill germs better than cold water would.
The doctor came back and explained to me just how the blockage caused by the earwax would have led to the pain I experienced. (The eardrum is supposed to regulate the pressure in your head, but if it's blocked it can't do it's job. As you descend, the air pressure increases and causes your sinuses to be squeezed.) He gave me some tips on how to prevent it from happening again, and sent me on my merry way with a sample of Sudafed and some cough drops.
Needless to say, my mom was also quite relieved on the diagnosis. Sure, she had to write a check for the doctors visit since they wouldn't accept our out-of-state insurance, but at least I could fly normally again, and no long lasting damage had been dealt.
Thankfully, I'm not a stupid person, and I've learned my lesson from all this. Props to the nice people who invented the Q-Tip; even though I haven't been using them as I should, I can say that they are now my favorite traveling companion. Who ever would have thought that a simple roll of paper with a few balls of cotton attached could be such a blessing?
User Reviews
Submitted by PatheticCapitalistFuck (user info) at 2004-08-13 01:07:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Bit long, but I did read the whole post, which is rare for me.
Serious injuries related to personal hygiene is always good.
Submitted by ubertits (user info) at 2004-08-13 01:06:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Doctors are always nicer than nurses.
They make more money. Oh and he probably wanted to see your mimmies
Submitted by qwert_666 (user info) at 2004-08-13 00:52:34 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
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