‘Resonance’

Tinnitus, she said, and I backed away slowly, eyeing her suspiciously. Tinnitus would account for everything, she ended lamely, her palms up in the air. I left in a huff, swearing that she would get no money out of me and that I would never again waste my time on Western medicine. I don't know what exactly I had been hoping for – maybe to be told there was nothing wrong, after all? Maybe that the ringing in my ears, which had started when I was young but had been growing – in volume, strength, consequence – of late, maybe I was hoping she would tell me that, oh yes, I certainly had a very interesting situation here, one that she had only ever read about but never seen, and that we should bring in a specialist in ecstatic experiences right away. Maybe I was just hoping that she would tell me I was very special indeed.

I left her and went to the office of an academic. He parroted the doctor derisively, slapped me on the back and told me how doctors don't know everything – far from it! – but that he too wasn't a doctor and that he too didn't know everything. Far from it. He suggested strong coffee and fast talking and turned away to marvel at his massive, overflowing bookshelf.