The Poster and The Booth.

Has anyone else seen this thing? I’m pretty sure it is a requirement to graduate from medical school –  that there is a mandatory, government issued agreement that you have to sign before you receive your doctorate to ensure that you hang this striking piece of unnerving wall art on the walls of your exam rooms.   

I am yet to find myself in a doctor or audiologist office where one of these has not been hanging in a place of prominence – frequently laced with hues of yellow from aging.  (They are never in new, pristine condition…is that also a requirement?)

Forgive my digression, but I have spent literally hours staring at this poster trying to unravel the mystery of the ear and what is happening deep inside the dark caverns of my own as the nerves continue to die on me with an increasing acceleration.  As a kid, I would look at all of the “yellow stuff” (my own technical medical terminology) and conclude that inside our ears was a magic, untapped reservoir of peanut brittle or melted butterscotch candy that stiffly and slowly puttered along some unknown passageway.  As an adult, I’m still not 100% sure what it actually is – and am absolutely fine not knowing…it is a little gross.

I have found that the best time to sit and examine this work of abstract art is when I am sitting inside The Booth.  Have you ever been in The Booth? Add it to your bucket list, it is not to be missed! How could anyone pass up the opportunity to be bolted inside what essentially looks like a dried out meat locker for the purpose of having a hearing test? 

As a child – and, admittedly, as an adult – being inside The Booth conjures up fantastical dreams of aliens, spaceships, and galactic adventures.  Even now, I still feel like maybe, just maybe, this is it – a seemingly normal day when I came into the booth for a routine hearing test, but will actually be abducted by aliens because The Booth is a spaceship!  Trust me, this makes perfectly logical sense when you are sitting within this giant metal cube with speckled holes poked into the walls. Not yet convinced? Well – the massive door is heavy and it lets out a satisfying THUNK when it shuts, and then the door handle clicks into place (or is it a lock?) and you can’t help but feel that you are being held captive!  (My overly active imagination and ADHD comes in handy in situations such as these).

As exciting as it is to be carried away in your mind on an alien abduction, as an adult it has become mildly unsettling to sit inside this thing and wait for something to happen.  You know that The Test is coming. Even as I am writing this – my mouth is getting a little dry, and my palms are getting a little sweaty – the only thing dependable for me with a hearing test is this mild anxiety attack that accompanies it! 

The Voice happens a few moments later, unexpectedly – first this crackle of static and then “CAN YOU HEAR ME? WE WILL BEGIN THE TEST NOW!”  I jump every time – because The Voice seems to wait to pronounce its arrival right at the peak of the anxiety attack that is creeping in at a rapid pace.  (I have – for years – wanted to respond back with “ARE YOU THE GREAT AND POWERFUL OZ?” – maybe next time.)

The Voice is a little demanding, and states that The Tasks will now begin – which requires my maximum level of attention (add ADHD in there with my wild creativity and compromised hearing, well…my attention is never really at maximum level).

The first test begins – with the first direction from The Voice stating, “Raise your hand when you hear the beep”.  Pretty straightforward, can’t really mistake the expectations for this one, feeling pretty confident about my motivation and participation, no problems here.  I’m ready to rock out and nail this raising hand activity all in the name of the beeps.

I sit and wait, eagerly anticipating The Beeps.  A minute ticks by…then another…and another. I snap my fingers next to my ears, making sure that the hearing aids are in solid, working order and discover no problems.  Another minute ticks by…and now I’m starting to fidget, and I begin to hum to myself (usually “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” for reasons that remain unknown) and the claustrophobia starts to set in along with the realization that maybe I really HAVE been abducted by aliens.  The logical mind finally arrives and overpowers the spiral that I have now begun and I realize that I can “use my words” to ask The Voice exactly what is going on – finally putting to good use the advice I impart to my students.

I state – with cheer, force and authority to The Voice – “Hello! Is this thing working? Are you having a problem with The Beeps?” 

(Insert dramatic pause)

And then The Voice responds, “No problems on our end.  The test has been running for the past few minutes. Unfortunately, you are not hearing any of the beeps in the high frequency range.  Please continue to listen for the beeps and raise your hand. Thank you.”

Oof. Even for The Voice that was cold, heartless, and blunt.  

I imagine that Most People would feel overwhelmed with grief, trepidation, sadness or perhaps panic at this new information.  But – for better or worse – I am most decidedly not Most People. I burst out laughing. I was in near hysterics upon hearing that news from The Voice because I have been blessed (and cursed) with the ability to “find the funny” in literally any situation, however inappropriate.  

I ask that we all remember this – that if you look closely enough, in even the most dire of times – there is comedy hidden within its depths.  If you can smile in the face of what feels overwhelming, frightening and difficult – then you have found the window of hope, light and joy for times ahead.

Thank you for reading – and, if you have a hearing test coming up soon, remember – it could well be an alien abduction!