Tinnitus—”The Sound of Hell”

by Neil Bauman, Ph.D.

For some people, the tinnitus they hear all day long—every day—makes it hard to cope with life. Eddy is one such person. Now totally deaf and almost blind, she writes, “The noises in my head almost drive me nuts. They change constantly. I know, that people could go nuts with what I am going through. I am not surprised if some end up committing suicide or in a mental hospital.”

In spite of her horrible tinnitus, Eddy is a poet and finds relief in her poetry. Her poem “From Music to the Sound of Hell” gives a bit of insight into what her bad tinnitus really is like.

From Music to the Sound of Hell

Once—my voice rang out with joyful glee,
Others used to sing with me.
Once—I played accordion, mouth organ, and mandolin;
I even played the organ, and the violin.
My ears were very sensitive:
To them it was offensive—
To be subjected to the sound
The clock beside my bed made—and I found—
To get some rest
It would be best
To hide it under a hat;
Henceforth, I did just that.

Now—times have changed;
My hearing is deranged,
I cannot sing,
No instrument will bring—
The music I intend to send.
No lovely tune I hear,
Loud noise I have to bear
In both my ears and head
During days- and nights in bed,
Which never gives me peace.
I do not find release
From humming, strumming, banging, clanging,
Slapping, clapping, hissing, sizzling, howling, growling,
Orchestrated sounds.
There are no bounds—no limits set—
To my regret
For this destructive torture.

No one understands my pain.
My only wish is—to stay sane.
I learned to hide what bothers me,
Therefore, not a one can see
The devastating state I am in;
The horrible calamity
That frightfully engulfs me,
Keeps petrified me in my chair
In agony, and deep despair—
Not knowing what’s in store for me,
Praying: “Please God, let this be
The last of these unbearable attacks.
I do not mind—if I can’t hear,
Therefore, I have to bear
Cruel disrespect from all,
Just save me from the fall
Into this hellish nightmare.”

My body is deprived of sleep
That’s restful, long and deep.
More often than I care—
I doze off in my chair,
Don’t go to bed at all,
Why bother? I don’t fall
Asleep there anyway,
Night seems like day.
The discord music in my head
Never stops—Instead—
It’s getting worse each day.
I wish there were a way
To end this dreadful agony.

Edeltraut L. Scheffler-Plath.

(c) 1999. (Used by permission)

Edeltraut (Eddy as she likes to be called) has written a book of poems. If you like her unique brand of poetry, you might be interested in getting her book 131 Poems from the Heart. It will tug at your heartstrings.