Archive | January, 2016

Now ‘Ear This!

8 Jan

Back in September, The Squire was knocking down a wall and swung the hammer too close to his ear, resulting in some sort of internal damage. He hears what he describes as a “metallic beep” with each word he speaks and every time his left foot hits the ground.

Enough to drive you nuts.

He did go to an audiologist, who pretty much performed the same tests they’d do for  hearing aids (yes, he should wear his more often) but found no other problems. Next up was a trip to an ENT. Many, many years ago I saw a program on television about a man who had a similar problem, which was caused by a tiny hole in one of the arch-shaped bones in his ear. The ENT told him this was so rare a condition as to be almost unheard of, which was, as a matter of fact, the point of the TV show. He suggested a course of steroids and antibiotics to clear up any possible infection and sent us on our way.

No joy. In fact, things are getting worse. The Squire is now totally deaf in his left ear, other than the infernal beeping, and is suffering from bouts of vertigo, which means we’re back to having nearly every trip be a two-person operation. At least he can roll over and not hear me snore, which is one advantage.

Yesterday, we went back to the ENT, and I told him we’d looked for horses, and now it was time to look for zebras. He almost agreed with me, and The Squire has an appointment for an ENG (a sort of nerve conduction study for the ears) on the 14th.

This is all very trying for both of us. The Squire has always told me I am very soft-spoken, which is about as accurate as my considering myself an introvert, and I loathe yelling at him. I know some sign language, but he resists that, which is frustrating. He has his choice, you know – wear the blasted hearing aids, learn ASL, or talk to the local undertaker, ‘coz I’m a-gonna kill him!



You Know…

7 Jan

…it’s time to go on a serious diet when the only thing in your closet that comes close to fitting is your bathrobe.

Happy New Year!

1 Jan

I worked the 18th and 21th, plus the four days this week, and I think it will take me a week to catch up on my sleep. I get home at 6:00, and the Squire has dinner ready, but if I don’t post this before 7, it shows up as the next day, so it doesn’t get done.

We went to bed around 10:30 last night; I was vaguely aware of noise at midnight, but not the sort of full-scale blowout we used to have before the sheriff moved in across the street. The Squire got up this morning at 7 AM, but I didn’t wander down until 9:30. While I was waiting for the kettle to boil, I went out to feed the squirrels, and The Squire followed me out. He joked that I needed to watch out for the “mad squirrel”; he’d brought out some stale muffins and while he was breaking them up to toss across the yard a squirrel had come over, climbed up his pants leg, and grabbed a hunk of muffin right out of his hand, and ran off with it.

“Oh! Did you already fill the feeders, then?”

Blank look. “I never thought of it.” Sometimes I wonder about that man…

By Wednesday, the dog had gotten used to the fact that I wasn’t home during the day, but he was waiting at the kitchen door every night when I came in. We normally feed him three small meals a day, at the end of the dining room table, and he won’t start eating until we have said grace. This evening, we ate at the computer desk, catching up on things that had been done and left undone during the last week or so. Blazer wandered in with his dish in his mouth, so I went out and fed him, then sat back down at the desk. A few moments later, he was back in the den, without the dish, but pawing at our chairs. Once he’d gotten our attention, he went back out and sat at the end of the table, next to his dish, looking back and forth between us and his food.

The Squire turned around and looked at the dog, then raised his hand in blessing, and said, “Lord bless this food to the dog’s use. Amen”

And Blazer settled down to eat.