This week marks Tinnitus Awareness Week, a time to reflect on the impact of tinnitus and the search for understanding and relief. But sometimes, a conversation goes beyond just the symptoms. Sometimes, it touches on something greater.
The wonder that remains
Recently, I had one of those conversations—a moment that will stay with me. A man and his wife, both in their eighties, sat across from me in my consultation room. He had come to the tinnitus clinic with mild complaints and concerns. The tinnitus wasn’t completely throwing him off balance, but the nagging thought that it might get worse occupied his mind. The fear that sleep problems and constant ringing might affect his rest and quality of life had led him to seek help.
More than anything, he wanted tools—something to regain control. To prevent things from getting worse.
Before the consultation, I had asked if his wife wanted to join us. For them, it may have seemed natural, but for me, it was essential. Tinnitus is not just an individual problem. It affects relationships, communication, and how a partner experiences these challenges.
The wonder what remains
Early in our conversation, I explained that avoidance and masking—the strategies he had been using—were counterproductive. But more importantly, I took them into the fascinating world of how sound and our brain work together. We explored the magic of hearing: from the tiny hair cells in the cochlea to the thousands of sounds we perceive every day.
Then, something special happened. He paused for a moment and said, almost hesitantly:
“I find this so wonderful. It’s almost… divine.”
He looked at me, unsure if it was appropriate to say such a thing. That moved me. Not because he spoke of God, but because he seemed ashamed of his sense of wonder. I felt the need to acknowledge his words.
“I completely understand,” I said. “To me, God is not a man with a beard watching us from above. It’s not a person but a force. Something indescribable. It’s the wonder that touches us, the mystery of how everything works.”
His expression softened. It felt as if he was now free to express his feelings without judgment. And for a moment, we shared that sense of wonder—about hearing, the brain, and life itself.
The power of our brain
This conversation naturally led us to another wonder: the neuroplasticity of the brain. I explained how the brain can adapt, even to the constant presence of tinnitus. Not by fighting it, but by accepting it and understanding why it’s there.
For him, this was a new perspective. And I could see him making that mental shift in real time.
The examples and metaphors not only helped him but also his wife. They gave her the tools to better understand his experience. And they created space for reflection—on how important it is to be heard, both literally and figuratively.
More than medical
At the end of the consultation, he asked for a pen and paper. He wrote something down and handed it to me:
“Toon Hermans*, my doctor.”
“Laughter, humor, self-mockery,” he said with a twinkle in his eye. “That keeps you young.”
His wife added how important it is to give each other compliments. A smile to a stranger on the street, a sincere thank-you—small gestures that connect us.
They walked out, hand in hand. At the door, he turned around once more and said:
“This conversation deserves a solid ten!”
A lesson from Toon Hermans
This conversation reminded me why I do this work. It’s not just about addressing symptoms, but about offering perspective, hope, and a bit of humanity. And what better way to sum that up than with the words of Toon Hermans:
If you truly love someone,
If you trust them with everything,
If they truly know who you are,
Even your weak spots…
Then you finally understand what life is,
And that love is about giving.
Love, wonder, and the power of a good conversation—sometimes, that’s enough to make a difference.
Some conversations are life lessons to carry with us forever.
*Toon Hermans (1916–2000) was a beloved Dutch comedian, poet, and singer, known for his warm humor, poetic reflections on life, and deep connection to human emotions. Born in Limburg, he embodied the region’s down-to-earth and people-centered culture. His work often celebrated love, laughter, and the small but meaningful moments in life, making him a cherished figure in Dutch and Flemish culture.
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