So I went to the doctor for a post Africa tune up.  This is uncharacteristic of me as I avoid doctors like the plague, but considering that I could be carrying some sort of African plague, I thought I should get checked out.  After a thorough examination that involved taking my blood pressure and asking how I felt, he declared me malaria free and completely healthy…and then asked for a $30 co-pay.  

As I was walking out the door, I decided to bring up my ear.  About mid-way through my trip, I started to get these crazy pains that felt a lot like an ice pick being hammered through my left ear and into my brain.  The Internet told me not to worry about it, so I didn’t.  The pains went away eventually and at about the same time, so did my left ear’s hearing functions.   I figured you win some, you lose some.  And trading the pain for the hearing seemed more than fair.  I wasn’t planning on doing much about it aside from possibly some Google research.  But, since I was already at the doctor’s, I thought I might as well get this checked out. 

Here’s how the conversation went:

Me: I’m wondering if you can look at my ear too.  I can’t hear out of it.  I mean, I can hear really loud things, like fire alarms probably, so it’s not actually dangerous or anything.  Maybe you don’t even have to check it out if you don’t think it’s a big deal.

Him: (Grumbles something about taking a look…probably wondering if he can double my co-pay because I did have one foot out of the office when I turned around, so this could be considered a completely separate visit.) 

Me:  (Tilting my head while he shines his medicinal flashlight in.)  I think my ear was infected, but I just ignored it.  And I’m really fine with not hearing out of one ear.  As long as the other works.  No biggie, right? 

Him:  I can’t even see your eardrum there’s so much wax in here.  You need to clean your ears.  Then you’ll be able to hear. 

Me:  (Suddenly humiliated.)  But the malaria was a real disease that wasn’t caused by me being dirty or anything I could help.  I use q-tips very frequently, by the way. 

Him: Excuse me?

Me:  Nothing. 

Him:  (Writes something on paper and hands it to me.)  Here.  Buy this at CVS.  It’ll be in the baby care isle. 

I don’t know why I found this whole interaction so humiliating, but I did.  Maybe it’s because now I’m a 26 year old, living at home, using baby ear care products.  I should just get one of those junior potties and declare eternal virginity right now. 

(Also, this picture comes up when you Google baby ear infections.  YAY INTERNET!)