You haven't been around here for very long so you probably missed the poem I wrote last year.
With apologies to Edgar Allan Poe.
Once upon an MRI table
So noisy I thought it was the Tower of Babel.
I mused and pondered my neuroma of yore.
As I lay there weak and nauseous
From the contrast in my veins,
Suddenly a voice from nowhere
Asked what music I would like to hear.
Golden oldies did I tell her,
Told the voice from out of here.
Only those and nothing more.
Ah, distinctly I remember,
It was in the bleak December,
That I lost my right side hearing
And heard weird tones from in my brain.
Along with tones I had bad balance,
Like as drunk but without drink.
What is this, I wondered,
That has been inflicted,
Inflicted upon me evermore.
A timely visit to the doctor led me to the ENT.
Led me to the ENT who sent me
To the noisy MRI.
MRI that found neuroma, shock that put me an a coma.
Filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before.
Tis some error, did I mutter.
Only this and nothing more
Alas, alack, it was no error.
Neuroma present, albeit small.
ENT said watch and wait,
I resigned me to my fate.
Six months later, on the table.
Golden oldies in my ear,
Long I lay there, wondering, fearing,
Dreaming dreams no mortal
Ever dreamed before.
Shortly after, went to records,
Filled out form and got CD.
Brought it home to view the image
And this mystery explore.
Let my heart be still a moment,
And this mystery explore.
Sure enough, neuroma grew some,
Thing of evil from horrors shore.
Then methought of how to kill it,
Cut it out or zap it dead.
As of now I still am thinking,
Thinking how to kill neuroma,
So it bugs me nevermore.
Speaking of Poe, he might have been describing the feelings of Tinnitus sufferers in another one of his poems: The Bells.
Oh, the bells, bells, bells!
What a tale their terror tells
Of Despair!
How they clang, and clash, and roar!
What a horror they outpour
On the bosom of the palpitating air!
Yet the ear it fully knows,
By the twanging,
And the clanging,
How the danger ebbs and flows:
Yet the ear distinctly tells,
In the jangling,
And the wrangling,
How the danger sinks and swells,
By the sinking or the swelling in the anger of the bells
Of the bells
Of the bells, bells, bells, bells,
Bells, bells, bells
In the clamor and the clangor of the bells!
