For the past five days I haven’t been able to hear out of my right ear.
Yesterday, I had enough. I went to go see Dr. Bobby, a sweet man with less hair than someone his age should have. He was reliable though. He even cured Ben when we thought he had malaria. After all, Dr. Bobby did receive his M.D. from
The next day, my ear felt worse. During
The next day, my ear felt worse. Duringthe elevator ride up to the 12th floor, my ears and head felt like they were ballooning. All of my co-workers declared that I must go to a hospital. Get a second opinion, they said. “An ENT!,” “an ENT,” they chanted.
After twenty or so seconds of vacuuming, he pulled the utensil out of my ear. A dirty brown colored--tinged every so slightly with burnt red--piece of wax, the size of a large corn kernel, was resting on the tip of the utensil.
“Ben, you have to get this procedure. It’s just amazing,” I said. "I feel ten pounds lighter."
“No way,” he said.
“Then we are so buying one of those machines.”