After all I've boasted and bragged (not really) about never going to the doctor, I'm planning on going this evening. Excruciating abdominal pain didn't do it. The possibility of glaucoma and future blindness didn't do it. A plethora of niggling seemingly-health-related-oddities-that-make-me-wonder-what-the-hell-is-going-on didn't do it. Nevertheless, it should come as no surprise that what's doing it are symptoms suggesting possible "pulsatile tinnitus", according to a cursory DuckDuckGo search (trying to avoid using China-friendly, "evil is swell", internet-monopolistic Google). 

Something's messed up in my right ear and I can hear my pulse, accompanied by tinnitus which I chronically get having supposedly been a rock musician, as well as occasional pain and hearing loss, which I don't chronically get. It was something I expected to go away, but after a few days it persists and although some websites say it should go away in a few weeks, others warn not to ignore it and get a real diagnosis. In this case, I'm gonna err on the side of caution and not wait "a few weeks" for it to sort itself out before getting it checked out.

Deciding to plan to go see a doctor is no minor source of anxiety, mind you; the least of which is just the idea of seeing a doctor. If something seems serious enough to see a doctor, I'm good with that; it's just something I have to do. Anything seemingly less serious, I just wouldn't even go. The anxiety is more about navigating the national health insurance system which I've never done before on my own, and dealing with the language issue in case the office or the doctors themselves don't speak English. Now, most Taiwanese doctors have some facility in English, it's just part of higher education. I think all hospitals in Taipei can accommodate English to some degree.

But I'm not going to a hospital. Much of Taiwan's national health insurance also supports specialized local clinics; step-in places for spot treatment, I think. These clinics can be found on every business street in Taipei, easily spotted by a distinct national health insurance logo, and knowledge of written Chinese will tell what the specialty is. In my case, I can recognize characters for nose-ear-throat (鼻-耳-喉) and I'll go to one of those I've located in my neighborhood which doesn't open until 6:30 p.m. on Sundays. I'm just a little less confident about English-ability in these neighborhood clinics, but I may be able to get by with my cursory Mandarin if no one speaks English *anxiety, anxiety, anxiety*. Also in these situations, there's a distinct possibility there will be an English-speaking good Samaritan who will step in to help translate. That's actually not uncommon in Taiwan; I've observed people will help people in seeming need. 

I'll probably have to fill out forms, so along with my national health card, Taiwan ID and (expired) passport for good measure, I'll also take along my written address if I have to provide that in Chinese *anxiety, anxiety, anxiety*. I've re-memorized my old 2G phone number in case I have to provide a phone number. It doesn't work, but it's easier to give a defunct number than trying to explain that I don't have a phone, which nowadays is akin to having to explain how I'm breathing or that I'm here at all. 

Now, me being me, I have to blow this up to the wider issue of 'what if my hearing is going?'. Is hearing loss an end-game? Indications of oncoming blindness is probably end-game. If I went completely blind, suicide is no longer an option so I would need to do it while I can. Cancer I've already entertained is end-game. Other non-health-related circumstances that would force me into situations that I can't imagine adjusting to (like having to move) might possibly be end-game. 

Hearing loss? All other circumstances that I identify as end-game involve other people and my relationship with the world. Hearing loss is just me and doesn't effect anyone else. But as listening to music is among my last few enjoyments of being alive, hearing loss would reduce quality of living to under, let's say, 10%.

Still, if it doesn't effect anything else but me, it isn't the endgame of an untenable circumstance that I have no control of, but rather becomes part of mindfulness practice of not being attached and letting go. Being able to listen and enjoy music is very important, but that's what makes it an attachment. Being forced to give it up is a mindfulness challenge to that attachment. Mindfulness practice is more important than enjoying music. If the two can co-exist, there's no problem. But if they conflict, mindfulness practice prevails, even if it means a further step towards my ultimate goal of suicide, which is something I both want and am resistant to. 

I've continued to listen to music per habit these past few days. Sometimes the tinnitus is unnoticeable with earbuds and sometimes it's noticeable (can't hear the right channel). I've turned down the volume to prevent further damage and discomfort of high volumes (not that I blast music in earbuds anyway). But if forced to realize that continuing listening to music here on in would mean degraded quality, I think I'd consider it not worth it and giving up that enjoyment and adjusting. It might just be a great relief. If it's in furtherance of a next suicide attempt, then praise the lord it be so. To be clear, it's not an excuse or reason for suicide. It's just removing a lame excuse and strong attachment to keep living.