Here’s some good news and bad
news. My sainted wife doesn’t get nearly
as upset by my often goofy remarks anymore which is the good news. The bad news is that her otolaryngologist
says she doesn’t hear as well as she used to.
For your information, an
otolaryngologist is an ear specialist; I know this because I looked it up.
In any case, I thought my sainted
wife was merely ignoring me but, alas, she was unable to hear me.
I mistakenly thought my hilarious
jokes were, in fact, unfunny; they weren’t.
So we packed a lunch and some
extra water and fuel cans for our trip to the nearest otolaryngologist, which
was roughly the distance of half the Sahara
Desert
Four days later, we arrived for
the hearing test.
The doctor came out to summon
her. “Is Uncle Paul’s sainted wife
here?”
After nearly 30-seconds of
silence, she again stated – in a slightly louder voice, “IS UNCLE PAUL’S
SAINTED WIFE HERE?!?”
I had to nudge her arm and
gesture that someone was looking for her.
Smiles abounded and she
disappeared with the doctor behind the sliding glass doors.
It wasn’t long before she
re-emerged with her normal stoic expression.
I immediately knew the news was
not good.
When she reached me, I stood to
greet her and asked if she was all done with the examination.
Then I again said, “ARE YOU
DONE?”
She poked me in the ribs and
grimaced.
Just outside she said she would
be just fine if she could extract some nasty wax from her ears. According to the doctor, it seems as though
this stuff was creating a dam in her ear canal and was easily remedied by a
daily application of some baby oil and a warm compress, augmented by a
plumber’s plunger. A small
plumber’s plunger, I might add.
A few days of squirting that
concoction into her ears proved to be a medical miracle.
The good news is her hearing is
again good, and my jokes are once again, funny.
The bad news is my brilliant idea
for her wedding anniversary gift is now no longer superior. I had an ear megaphone already selected.
