It was my six-month check up with the ear doctor. He is the physician that lifted my hearing up out of the ditch and into the land of the conversational. I feel a bond with him, which is probably explainable with some Freudian theory, even though I am just a blip on his schedule. Maybe he remembers me, if only because I gave him a quilt as a thank
you.
The nurse who preceded him used the computer to bring up my chart, and I let out a little gasp. This was the same system I used for four months, when I was an intern at a city hospital. I handed in my badge, and no doubt its ability to log in had expired. But for one second I recognized the layout of the information that describes my care.
The audiologist gave me a hearing test, as they usually do. There is a part where there
is a hissing sound playing in the background, to see how well you can decipher words in spite of it. Apparently I managed that famously.
I notice that life itself bombards us with background noise. The tirades on media, and sounds of traffic, and beeping phones interrupt my concentration. My own phone chimed precisely when the doctor was inserting a pointy object in my canal to extract wax. I reached to silence it but he said not to bother. His focus did not
waver.
Add to those audible insults the ones that do not register in decibels. Irritation, rants, complaints, criticism, and blame all do their part to block out the truly worthwhile messages.
Giving my attention to the Good News entails silencing the noise pollution.
"And behold, the Lord passed by, and a great and strong wind tore into the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces before the Lord,
but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a still small voice." 1 Kings 19