‘Tinnitus can dominate my every hour – but I’ve learnt to manage it’

Traditionally, there’s been no actual cure for tinnitus, but a team at the University of Minnesota has recently published a large-scale study for treatment, and hope is on the horizon. Photo / 123RF

I remember the day the silence stopped. It was the early 80s and I was working as a magazine writer, but had a side gig as a drummer. I was recording a track for a singer/songwriter in a studio deep in the heart of Sussex. Outside the birds were chirping and a breeze gently rustled the trees, but inside the monitors were cranked up, drums were tuned tight, and guitar amps were set to the prerequisite 11.

As we prepared for a take, the engineer hit the talkback button and inadvertently sent a high pitched tone through my left headphone at a massive volume. So loud was the sound, so tight were the headphones, it knocked me clean off my seat. The sound of chirping birds and light breezes would soon become a distant memory.

So began my experience with tinnitus, described by professionals as a “constant ringing, clicking, hissing, buzzing, whistling or roaring”. Sufferers, meanwhile, always describe it as an enormous pain in the (r)ear. And there are many sufferers; the condition commonly affects around 10-15 per cent of people, but thankfully only around 1 or 2 per cent of those find it close to intolerable.

For me it was caused by a single, loud noise, but for the majority it comes on gradually as we get older. Traditionally, there’s been no actual cure for tinnitus, but a team at the University of Minnesota headed by Professor Hubart Lim has recently published a large-scale study for treatment, and hope is on the horizon.

Their trial evaluated the efficacy of Lenire, a “non-invasive bimodal neuromodulation approach” that uses sound combined with electrical stimulation on the surface of the tongue to treat tinnitus. At least 80 per cent of participants experienced a reduction in their tinnitus symptoms after 12 weeks of treatment.

This could be tremendous news for people like me, whose symptoms creep up on them gradually before they realise they have full-blown tinnitus.

After my studio accident, I wasn’t exactly certain what had happened. I’d heard of tinnitus, but presumed it was just something that affected old folk, so I did the worst thing possible: I sat straight back on the stool and continued playing without adding hearing protection… for approximately the next 15 years.

Just in case there was any chance of my hearing surviving the drums, I took away any fighting chance by making a motorcycle my primary form of transport; the persistent wind and engine noise bikers endure is another common cause of both hearing loss and tinnitus. In my next life, I will listen to my mother. Gradually things began to take a turn for the worse. All would be fine with my hearing, then I’d get a sudden wave of extreme noise, like a microphone feeding back, whistling at a debilitating volume through my left ear. It would be enough to literally stop me in my tracks, but then it would end, giving me the confidence once again to punish my ears every which way.

Within around a year, however, it became clear that the whistling sound was no longer an occasional visitor but instead settling in for an extended stay. Initially it made its presence known in quiet environments; as my head hit the pillow at night I’d be joined by the faintest of sounds, a simple reminder that something was awry. This would be particularly noticeable after, say, a live music show or an extended bike ride.

But we all hear that, right?

That post-gig ringing? Sure, it was annoying, but obviously it would just go. Nothing to be worried about.

However, increasingly it was making itself known after a quiet night in watching TV too, or, bizarrely, after a spicy meal and, even more depressingly, alcohol. Then the real kicker; within a couple of years it no longer needed the silence to rear its noisy head. It learnt to rise above the casual cacophony of life and confidently assert itself in all manner of environments. This thing was definitely getting louder, more intrusive, and not going away.

Still not taking it seriously, I did what most men do and waited at least 15 years to consult a professional. I eventually saw an audiologist who sent a variety of non-musical pitches and volumes into my ears. I responded by tapping on a button in response to the ones I could hear. At the end of the test the doctor presented a graph that started strongly then dropped off impotently into nothing; into silence.

Further inspection revealed a little nerve damage, and I think the audiologist said something about broken in-ear hair follicles but I had trouble hearing him.

In reality, I have trouble hearing a lot of things. On nights out in crowded pubs background noise becomes extremely prominent foreground noise, and after a few attempts to keep up with the conversation you end up somewhat retreating into yourself. Watching TV isn’t a problem if you use closed captioning, but at the cinema it’s especially difficult to hear what’s going on, and in the theatre even more so. I usually rent the headphones theatres offer to help the hard of hearing keep up with the plot, but they’re often bad quality and it’s still difficult to make out the dialogue.

Sometimes my tinnitus is entirely manageable. At other times it’s a racket that dominates every fibre of my being. Perhaps the worst of it is when my head hits the pillow at night. I sleep with a fan next to me to help mask the noise, but it still doesn’t stop the ceaseless whistling interrupting sleep to the point of pushing me into insomnia. I’ve searched for cures in the form of medication, medical trials, acupuncture and meditation, but, more than 35 years on, my high-pitched friend has made itself at home and thrown away the key.

As the years have passed I’ve belatedly become far more careful with my ears, treating them with the kind of respect they always deserved. The desire to stick with the drums is still there despite the damage caused, but I splashed out on a pair of custom-fitted ear plugs from Sensaphonics for when I’m playing shows, and at home I play music at a neighbour-respecting volume.

Plus I recently took a giant step and got some hearing aids. The devices are tiny, rechargeable, black to blend in with my glasses, and are as discreet as a hearing aid could be. They do little to help with the tinnitus, but now I don’t have to pretend I understand what people are talking about in restaurants and bars.