Ring, ring, it's your ear calling

One day, I did something very out of character. I handed my wife a box of matches, stuck a hollow candle into my ear and asked her to light it.

For all that I seem to go from one minor medical problem to another (I promise to spare you the details) and am regarded as a bit of a hypochondriac by the family, I'm big on letting things run their course. I usually wait until I'm delirious before popping the paracetamol, or call the doctor for an appointment only as the gangrene starts to set in.

Then there are injections. At the movies, I blithely watch scenes of chainsaw killings, scythe wieldings and even the sewing up of open wounds, but turn into a shivering wreck with his hands over his eyes the instant a hypodermic needle appears. Television features on immunisation drives are my horror movies.

On the whole, I'd say I'm suspicious of treatments. I rarely tinker until I've done the research. And the research usually suggests that it's better to spend money on rock albums than on an extract of herbs that promises immunity and extra-sensory perception.

Box of candles

But when a friend left us a box of ear candles, I didn't stop to think. I've always suspected that my hearing isn't what it should be, and decided that this now-mainstream folk treatment would set things right. (My mother, however, has always asserted that my ears are fine, and I don't hear simply because I don't pay attention.) While I dismissed the claims that ear candles extracted toxins and "bad energy", I willed myself to believe that they really did extract ear wax. I should have stopped to think. If the tiny pressure from a burning candle could do the job, then we'd have earwax bullets ricocheting around airplanes every time they took off. Those candles don't generate enough differential for even the tiniest ear pop. Having a burning candle stuck in your ear is strangely relaxing though. There's a feeling of warmth and a crackling sound that soon goes from downright terrifying to vaguely unsettling.

After the candle has burned down, its base can be opened up to reveal a brown powdery substance that proponents of the process say is earwax and toxins. However, various health websites suggest that it's just residue from the candle itself. They go on to list some of the horrible things that can go wrong with ear candling. The worst is the possibility of hot wax (from the candle) dripping onto the eardrum and burning a hole in it. Other possible results include burns from hot ashes, clogging of the ear canal with candle wax, infection, perforation of the ear drum and the onset of tinnitus.

I suppose I should be grateful that it was only tinnitus that I got. My right ear obviously has no faith in folk treatments and crackled in annoyance for a couple of days after the candling. Then, clearly still upset, it began squealing. Non-stop. It wouldn't drown out the television or anything, but when things got quiet, its shrill ringing would drill right through my brain. Some nights, I thought long and hard about a gentleman named Vincent Van Gogh.

Ear drops and tablets reduced the noise in the end. In the course of treatment, I also learned that my hearing is perfectly normal. This means I didn't stick those candles in my ears because I couldn't hear properly, but because I wasn't paying attention. My mother had been right all along.

Oh, and that playing with fire thing mothers tell you about? That makes a lot of sense as well.

Gautam Raja is a journalist based in the US.