I long ago outgrew any youthful shortcomings in this department, and today I am the exact opposite of youthful ear-cleaning rebellion. My closet is always neat, my belongings picked up and my bathing routine meticulous. Each day, I use two Q-Tips, one for each ear, to make sure any and all gunk and excess water from the shower is removed.
Growing up, I was taught that cleaning my ears out with a swab was a good thing. Though I don’t recall it ever being said explicitly, the impression I got was that neglecting to clean my ears was certain to lead to some awful disease. Or at least I’d get in trouble for it.
Perhaps it was my need to be clean that made my ears perk up a few months ago when I attended an event for the Reno-Tahoe Young Professionals Network (YPN) at The Sanctuary, at 9333 Double R Blvd. in south Reno.
The best way to describe The Sanctuary is an ultra-yuppie club where you can work out on space-age machines or in new-wave pilates classes, get a facial or massage or other tranquillity-enhancing treatment, or generally bask in the serenity of the faux candles and dark wood. All this for prices that a newspaper editor generally can’t afford.
During this networking event with YPN, one of our Sanctuary guides — whose appearance was so perfect that you couldn’t possibly refute any of the claims she made about their services — mentioned a procedure called ear candling. The name alone is intriguing, but the guide got my attention by saying it can remove years of gunky build-up in the ear canal. The thought that I might have such gunk in my head was enough to make me realize that I absolutely, positively needed to get my ears candled.
So this week I finally got around to making an appointment. On Friday at 3 p.m., I strode into The Sanctuary and was greeted by two women whose organioc overall glow and well-being made me want to apologize for even thinking of eating fast food for dinner. I filled out a paper with my name and address and then signed a waiver. I assumed this was in case my ear candling went awry and my face got burned off. One of the ladies then took my $45 and led me to the back to wait for the pyro who would be my surgeon for the day.
I waited a few minutes, sitting in stylish chairs with cushy lumbar support, sipping cool water from a spotless glass and listening to new wave jazz on the speakers. Soon, a woman named Lorrie appeared and told me she’d be doing my ear candling. Lorrie came in looking as if she planned to do an anti-gravity fun run or some other fancy workout just as soon as she was done with me.
Lorrie explained that ear candling is a simple practice that has been in use for centuries. The main tool is a piece of fabric shaped like a candle and dipped in bees wax to make it stiff. She sticks the “candle” through a hole in a paper plate covered with aluminum foil to catch any pieces of the candle that burn off. With the client lying on their side, Lorrie said she then puts the tapered end of the candle in my ear and lights the other end, protruding above the plate. The oxygen consumed by the flame would create a vortex, as she called it, that would equalize the pressure inside and outside my ear and suck out the aforementioned gunk.
Lorrie then proceeded to shatter my childhood notion of ear cleaning.
“Has anyone told you it’s bad to use Q-Tips?” she asked.
Whaaa? I thought.
According to Lorrie, shoving cotton swabs in your ear just packs the ear wax in tighter.
“But my mom says otherwise,” I thought, “and she’d never lie to me.”
Though I wasn’t sure I could trust a woman whose teachings were in direct contradiction to my mother’s, I asked her to continue. Lorrie went on to explain that ear wax is the body’s way of trapping dirt and other debris that might otherwise get into our systems and that the body naturally pushes it out like a slow conveyor belt. The ear candling process simply speeds up the conveyor belt temporarily and helps give it an extra push, she said. It is particularly helpful for firefighters or others whose work environment is particularly dirty.
“If firefighters do it,” I thought, “maybe it’s OK.”
So, I laid down on my side and she inserted the candle into my left ear. Whisps of sweet-smelling smoke let me know the process was underway. My next sensation was hearing the air move through the tube, which reminded me of listening to the oceanic symphony in a seashell. As Lorrie had warned me, I could also feel pressure changes in my ear similar to going up or down in an airplane. It was a gentle pressure change, which was a little disappointing since I had almost expected to feel something more like a Shop Vac being jammed in my ear and having giant boulders of ear wax being sucked out.
When she finished my left ear she asked if I wanted to see the results. I told her I’d wait until she had done the other ear, perhaps hoping still to feel the aforementioned boulder tumble out. The process was the same, however, and when I got up to view the product of my waxectomy all I saw was a fine powder that was mostly the burned bees wax. I guess I had hoped to see old shoes or license plates, or perhaps layers of wax that would tell the story of my life much like scientists study time in the layers of ice in a glacier.
As I got up to leave, I could definitely feel a pressure change in my head and my sinuses were a bit clearer. Fourteen hours later as I finish writing this, my ears still want to pop. And while my ears were being candled, Lorrie, who is a massage therapist, gave me a nice neck and ear rub that was worth the money by itself. I’m quite sure my ears are cleaner, plus I got to lie down and relax for half an hour and get this column out of it.
Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need a Q-Tip.
Nathan Orme is the editor of the Sparks Tribune. He can be reached at norme@dailysparkstribune.com.
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