Adding a Little Levity by Robert J. Licalzi

Author:Robert J. Licalzi
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blue Star Press
Published: 2018-09-22T16:00:00+00:00

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MISOPHONIACS UNITE!

The impact of this little-known, debilitating illness (misophonia, or selective sound sensitivity syndrome) on thousands of long-suffering victims goes unnoticed and unappreciated every day. Literature, clinics, and support groups are nonexistent. If we’re lucky, we suffer in silence. More than likely, we are ridiculed. In fact, the only sympathy I ever receive after an attack of misophonia is from my wife, who is concerned enough to ask me, “What the hell is the matter with you?” although she never waits around for me to answer.

Put me in an agreeable social situation—lots of friendly people, good food, lively music, interesting conversation—and I will hear, and then fixate on the dog barking in the distance. Can I help it if I have the auricular sensitivity of, well, a dog?

I might be trying to close an important business deal over lunch in a restaurant when my attention is stolen by the person at a nearby table, sniffling and snorting, never having been taught (or perhaps having forgotten), how effective a tissue or handkerchief can be in such situations. In an attempt to alert the sniffler to his churlish behavior, I sniffle and snort, only louder. This invariably leads my lunch guest to ask the same question my wife does.

When I occasionally fly first class, I eagerly look forward to a quiet meal. Instead, I am assaulted by the cacophony of knives and forks striking china as diners sloppily cut and spear their food. Just how difficult is it to target one’s food noiselessly? All at once, my taste buds, hunger, and equanimity shut down. With each clanging fork and knife, my rage deepens.

Even at home in Puerto Rico, the endemic coqui, a small frog less than one-inch long, emits a delightful mating call, part of the music of the tropics. For months, I enjoyed the soothing sounds until a mutant coqui with the lungs of Enrico Caruso settled into one of the plants in our outdoor terrace. Clearly, this was one sex-deprived coqui, its mutation having frightened off a number of eligible female coquis. Its mating calls were louder, more frequent, and more desperate than any I had heard before. Eating dinner, watching TV, conversing with the family became impossible. As soon as I entered the terrace, the coqui would clam up, so I couldn’t identify in which plant he was perched. I hosed down the entire terrace, poured scalding hot water into each of the plants, and then tried citric acid. Nothing worked. Napalm or Agent Orange seemed to be the logical next steps, but I had trouble convincing my wife.

I first became aware of my affliction as a youngster, when after dinner, our family would settle into the living room and my dad’s tongue would go in search of food particles that had decided to nestle in the spaces between his teeth rather than follow the intended path to his stomach.

The art of coaxing food out of its dental hiding place required that a suction be created between tongue and tooth, followed by the tongue’s rapid release.

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