Well to begin with how does one conjecturalise tinnitus? a disability or an impairment or to quote one of Thomas Hardy's characters in 'a pair of blue eyes' an infernal frying of fish?
It is not as if I have not "suffered" from this phenomenon for longer than I can remember which would be well over forty years, but only recently did I assay the possibility that I could actually be rid of it.
Well no parables about Elizabeth Moon's speed of dark here, it came about because one night I was kept awake in hospital by the noise of an oxygen feed, it was actually louder than my tinnitus and at the same frequency so the "infernal frying of fish" for once actually disappeared, not that I got any sleep out of it.
Ok, there has to be some conjunction of circumstances some ontological causal trajectory inside the total perspective vortex as to how I come to be trying out a gizmo.
After over year of discomfort with what is supposed to be "benign paroxysmal positional vertigo" I was finally referred to an ENT, and during that consultation which included a hearing test that I aced, all except for a vital 4 khz in my right ear which commands this story, I mentioned my tinnitus and my recent experience.
Hitherto I have put up with it because I really have known no alternative, but I thought well give it try see what the clinic comes up with.
Well I was much surprised when a month or so later when I actually got to the tinnitus clinic that I was without hesitation given an in the ear gizmo worth about 185 GBP to try out with free batteries for life.
The theory is that the 4khz loss in my right ear is the source of it all, in that having lost that frequency (a cap gun was fired in my ear during childhood) the brain has missed that frequency and turned the gain up to the extent that I have become my own noise generator.
So like a crazed and desperate curebie clutching at straws for relief from the inevitable, I am giving it a try though I don't have a lot of hope. It is more in the spirit of Thomas Hardy again, where he talks in a poem of the Oxen Kneeling at Christmas.
"So fair a fancy few would weave
In these years! Yet, I feel,
If someone said on Christmas Eve,
"Come; see the oxen kneel
"In the lonely barton by yonder coomb
Our childhood used to know,"
I should go with him in the gloom,
Hoping it might be so."
I shan't be disappointed if nothing comes of it, I am a cynic, some things are not meant to be.