Numbsters and Biters

My tinnitus (chronic ear-ringing) and its associated hearing issues (severe hearing loss) can sometimes become potentially destructive twins, especially in the midst of extended periods of time when I’m surrounded by crazy-loud, screechy-chirpy-yippy grandkid voices. While the main problem (of course) is NOT being able to hear and communicate with the kids, which is a separate topic in itself, there’s a subliminal other-effect as well.

It’s called temporary insanity. Allow me to briefly introduce the primary insanity-inducing players, and then offer commentary about their management.

In the midst of a long siege of noise, the Numbsters are the first antagonists to show up in my head.  These are blackish ear-muffler-underworld-types that act like hearing hit men.  They’re out to double-muffle everything that’s already muffled – to effectively shove my head inside an air vacuumed auditory ball and hold me at gunpoint there.

The Numbsters don’t just threaten or play games, though.  They have other ploys, namely pounding the auditory juglar-nerve until it’s numb! It’s sort of like an auditory crazybone – youch, a direct hit to jangle hearing nerves.  That deadens things even more until conversation sounds like Woodstock’s classic muffle-jargon.  “Bwah-wah-wa-waaah?”  Um, sure.

Although they’re fairly long-lived, after a while (like many hours) the Numbsters often run out of energy (poor things, they work so hard at their job of muffling) and pass the baton to the second round of antagonists. While holding the line, they lie down and play dead which is a signal to usher in…the Biters.

Now.  The Biters.  These are little sharp-toothed, fluorescent orange-and-pink pac-men that live in my brain somewhere.  They come out to play after the Numbsters have set the stage – when I’m good and tired, when I’m stressed from listening and straining to listen and craning every bit of my body and soul to LISTEN.  They snap here and there like hungry little piranhas.  Chomp, chomp.  Seriously.  I can feel the pinch.  It stings.

The good news is that both the Numbsters and Biters go home when the party’s over.  After a night of sleep I’m usually unaware that they’ve even paid a visit, although it helps to have a full day of quiet to recoup afterwards. The other good news is that I am given grace sufficient for days like this, and even welcome the adorable grand-kiddos back again and again.  And again.

This is true because it’s worth it.  Because God makes sure that His grace is made perfect in my weakness so I can choose to live beyond my auditory limitations. Grace puts the Numbsters and Biters in their places, way down at the bottom of a very dark barrel of self-absorption where they have very little lingering ability to discourage my heart, and keeps the kids where they belong: at the top of the heap.