Did You Ever Hear About How I Lost My Hearing?

As I walk around this ancient Mexican village which I now call home, I have noticed more and more hearing aids, single & double units. Mostly, they are discreet but if you lean in a bit, you can see them. They’re there. We all realize that as we get older the hearing can dissipate and there is a need for a hearing aid. Being left out of conversations is a real bummer. Most people don’t realize I have a hearing aid too. These days I tend to leave it at home, but often I am facing a noisy room and regret the decision. The other thing most people don’t know is how it came to be that I needed one in the first place. Buckle in, we’re heading to 1991.

In those days my wife and I were living in Chicago in a three-story brownstone building apartment. We rented it. We worked in the city and it was a short train ride to and from our jobs. One day our phone rang. It was an old high school buddy that I had lost track of over the years. He was happy to had found me and wanted me to join him on a overnight gathering with his friends in Kenosha, Wisconsin. After some mental deliberation, I acquiesced. A week rushed by and it was Friday afternoon and Johnny was out front in his car honking for me. I kissed my wife, grabbed my bag and headed out, out to Kenosha.

Johnny hadn’t changed that much, I noted as I climbed into his car. After a few good chuckles about old times, he put the car into gear and we were off. On the ride north out of Illinois he caught me up on the evening’s event. I had forgotten he studied and became an arborist. In fact, all of the guys at this evening’s event were his workmates. Ahh, another surprise was that this event was a kegger-party on a farm. Okay, I can handle that. I still drank beer and I wasn’t driving, so bring it on. Before we knew it we were in front of a huge farm, the next door neighbor was beyond site.

We climbed out of his car with our things and joined up with the group. They had collected out back behind the farm’s main house. There was a bonfire all prepared and waiting for nightfall. There was music blasting out of someone’s boombox. And yes, there was a keg, two of them in fact. Johnny and I dropped our bags and bellied up for a beer. The first cup tasted refreshing. It was ice cold with a little head on it. Slurp! We made our way around the loose circle of workmates, whom all seemed to be fun-loving buds. A few more beers and the music went up as the sun went down. At one point an older woman came out with sandwiches. Apparently our host still lived at home with his parents, this was their farm.

Nights are very dark in rural Kenosha and this night it was pitch dark! A few more beers and I was feeling pretty good. The bonfire was blazing in full flame. After some funny work stories and a few raunchy jokes someone suggested we play football, touch football, nothing serious. It was unanimous, it seems everyone liked the idea, long before asking what I thought. Oh well, when in Kenosha, right?

The guys suddenly scattered leaving the bonfire deserted with just Johnny, me and some guy named Snuchker. I never did learn how he earned that nickname but it was his. I heard engines starting. Pickup trucks of all models and sizes began moving toward the field just beyond the fire and beer. They lined up side by side and in one single effort turned on overhead truck power lights that were incredibly bright. The field before us took on enough light to look like midday. I guess we are going to play football.

Sides were chosen and friendly threats on the game’s outcome were broadcasted. Before I knew it, I was in formation and waiting for the ball to be snapped. I was on the ground in an instant. Touch football my eye! The second play didn’t go much better. But by the fourth play I got around my antagonist and broke free. I kicked in my sprinting pace that I learned from high school track. It caught my team members by surprise. They had no idea I could run. So, you guessed it, the next play was a pass play and I was the receiver. The ball was snapped and I busted off the line like a good runner out of his blocks. I had an open field and cut to the left to distance myself from my foes. The ball was in the air. I seen it leave the quarterback’s hand. I turned to my path in front of me, all clear. I swung my head around again and found the football right where I expected it, close. I raised my hands in front of me with my head turned behind me. I watched the ball sail right over my head and into my awaiting hands. I got a good run on it too until two guys caught me and touched me to the ground with more force than I was used to. I think there was a message in that tackle.

The evening went on like this for another hour. I caught a few more and dropped a couple too. Our team had a running game that was good, but when they decided to go to the air, I was their man. It was getting late and some of the guys were getting back to their feet a little slower, some wincing a bit. It was decided, with an even score, that the next touchdown was it and the winning team declared. The other team had punted the ball all the way to our ten yard line. We were deep in our own country. The first two plays were on the ground and they only got us to the fifteen yard line. On third down the quarterback was sacked and we were right back at the ten yard line. In the huddle, debate was centering on punting or just going for a long pass. Rationale was suggesting we may not get the ball back again. The pass play was decided on.

The ball was snapped and I broke free of the scrimmage line. Nothing but open field for me. I gave this run the best one of the night. I knew the team could only hold defense for so long. I had gone quite a distance and could hardly hear the others. I ran faster. I was passing the fifty yard line with no one near me when I heard the quarterback release the ball and scream my name. I checked over my shoulder and noticed I needed to adjust to my right to be on line with the projectile. It was a marvelous pass but it was slicing close to the sideline. On my second view I began to wonder if I was going to keep up with it. I poured on more steam. I looked a third time (just in time) and jumped high and met the ball. I cradled it in as I past over the sideline high in the air and into a corn field.

I landed in a corn field…

I landed on corn…

Corn stalks razored past my arms and legs causing little bloody incisions…

A corn stalk hit the side of my face and found an opening, my left ear…

The stalk went into my ear bursting the drum and damaging the malleus bone in my middle ear…

My hearing raged into one impossibly high note, blinding out all sound…

I landed back on earth.

I lay there for some time trying to understand what had happened. I noticed the hearing in my left ear was shut off, completely, just the one high note in my head. I reached for my ear expecting to find something there. I could remove it and all would be fine. But there was nothing there, no stick or foreign object, nothing. I decided to stand up but fell down. I stood again when I noticed two guys coming toward me. I fell down again. I could not seem to keep my balance. They both stopped and started laughing, thinking I had exceeded my beer-intake limit. No this was a balancing problem due to the ear injury no doubt.

Once they realized that and seen blood on the side of my face they got serious. They got scared. They helped me back out into the open field and back to the fire site. The host had gone into the house to fetch his father. He would know what to do. By the time we reached the fire the older gentleman was there and with some quick inspection decided we needed to go to the emergency room, so we did.

It was 10:30 at night and the emergency room was empty except for me. I got a room and a doctor right away. He took a closer inspection of the ear and determined that I had punctured the drum. He poured some acid-based medicine into the ear. It stung and poured out my nose. Nope, that’s not right. He cleaned up the wound as best he could and recommended I see an ear specialist back home on Monday. Party’s over.

I did see a ear specialist who recommended that I wait six months and see if the ear drum would self heal, this can happen sometimes, but not for me. Eventually, I went under a knife and the drum was patched. I was finally able to put my head under a shower.

One month later I went to an otolaryngologist who did some sound tests and determined that although I could hear low and high tones pretty good, the middle range was wiped out. And I also now have a thirty year old ring in my left ear that comes and goes. All and all, I cannot complain. It could have been worse. The upside is I can block out outside noise when I’m trying to sleep by picking the right side to sleep on. And, I tend to listen to music constantly to drown out the ringing. It helps that I have composed music for decades and have eight albums published. You can find me on any platform by searching for “Michael Hemphill” or go to my website to find music and stories just like this one at hemphillwritings.com/. Now there’s some silver lining, right?

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