Pushkin. I had just turned twenty, like a month earlier, and I woke up one morning to this sound that was it sounded like a fire alarm, Like if you if you woke up to a fire alarm, you would be in a state of emergency. And that's that's what it felt like. And then it took me a few seconds to realize that the sound actually wasn't coming from anywhere it was it was coming from inside my own head.
That was seven years ago, and every day since then, Ramsey Cobaz has continued to hear that same persistent sound in his head. If you're inside and you live on a busy street and there's a truck backing up, the beeping sound that it makes to kind of let pedestrians know it's it's sort of that volume, but it's not like a punctuated beeping. It's it's a persistent It was
literally the only sound just completely dominating my headspace. This change Ramsey experienced, it was something doctors were able to name and describe. They said it was tenitis with sudden hearing loss in his left ear, but they couldn't explain why it happened to Ramsey, So he went searching for his own answer. I'm Maya Shunker and this is a slight change of plans, a show that dives deep into the world of change and hopefully gets us to think
differently about change in our own lives. Ramsey Kabaz remembers the exact moment this happened. He was a sophomore in college. It was Thursday, October sixteenth, twenty fourteen, a little after nine am, when he woke up to a high pitched ringing in his left ear. I remember running to the bathroom and like literally looking inside of my ear and feeling inside of my ear and trying to figure out like what had happened, Like did I fall asleep with
my headphone's in? Is there something inside of my ear? And obviously there wasn't, and I was really freaked out. I called my mom and I was like, hey, I think something's really wrong because I woke up with this ringing in my ear and now I'm feeling really off balance, and I'm talking to my mom on the phone and she's, you know, asking me if I want to, you know, for her to come pick me up and take me
to you know, the doc or something. And I switched hands at some point, you know, I was I was holding the phone with my right hand and I switched over to my left hand and the call dropped, and I was really confused and I was like hello, like you there, and there was no sound, and so then I eventually I switched hands again and she was back and the call was back, and I remember putting it together that oh my god, I can't hear anything out of my left ear. I think this is it's not
the call dropping, it's it's my ear isn't working. So I asked my mom to say the alphabet. She's confused, but she's like, okay, um ABCD, And I switched over to my left ear and there's nothing. And then I switched back over to my right ear and L M N O P and I you know, at that point, I was like, I really think that I need to go, you know, go to the doctor because something's something's not right here. And did this doctor know immediately what was
going on? So this is kind of where where I started to get a little frustrated, because you know, he was telling me, yeah, you have you have sudden sudden hearing loss. I was not in a good mood, as you can imagine. I remember saying to him, yeah, I know, I know that, Like it's it's pretty clear to me that I have suddenly lost my hearing. Could you tell me? Why? Could you tell me what happened? The best they can do is just call the condition what the symptom is.
And I remember he listed off to me a bunch of possible reasons, and it ranged from from, you know, I had a concussion the previous year, so that was it could have been a residual side effect of my concussion. It could have been something related to my jaw. It could have been an autoimmune reaction to some you know,
some virus. And then the one that he that he told me at the end that really freaked me out was, you know, because you're so young for something like this to happen, it's possible that you have like a brain tumor. And I remember hearing that and thinking, oh my god, like you know, this is this is really fucking scary. Do you mind just describing what it was like lying
in your bed that night? I think, just fear. You know, It's it's like if somebody, when somebody tells you not to think about elephants, you know, and then all you can think about is elephants having the persistent tone, that ringing just so loud, and no other sound in that in that ear just like filling my head with fear. And the fear was was just like literal it was literalized by by this sound that was not going away.
And I was more or less told by the doctors that it may never go away, that that sound may just stay with me forever. If you try to go to sleep with that sound playing in your room, that's how difficult it was for me to go to sleep that first night. So you wake up the next morning and that ringing is still in your head. Did it take your conscious brain just a moment or two to
register this new reality. Yeah. I remember waking up and realizing or thinking and worrying that the only the only silence I would ever get for the rest of my life would be when I was asleep, Like there was no there was no such thing as silence anymore. And I what I remember about waking up before this happened to me, was you know that feeling of like you wake up and it's just quiet. It was like waking up to an alarm. Wow, you had a brain scan to figure out whether or not you had this tumor
in your brain. I went in for the MRI, and if anyone's ever gotten an MRI m on you know on their head before you go into this little like it feels like a coffin almost, or like a tanning bed, and you like slide in and there's a there's a loud sort of whirring sound. But they gave me headphones and they were like, hey, like, what kind of music do you like? We can play whatever you whatever you want on these headphones. And I was like, all right, well, I like Bob Dylan, Can you play some Bob Dylan.
I think they had Pandora at that point at the hospital, so they gave me. They put the headphones in and I think the first song was like, I don't know, maybe like a rolling stone or something. And then the Pandora formula gave me Simon and Garfuncles the sound of silence.
So I'm in this MRI machine, you know, like weeping with the sound of silence playing and this loud whirring of the machine and the and the loud ringing in my ear, and in retrospect it's like dark comedy you know, just not knowing like what kind of information I was going to get back from from this test um. And luckily, you know, thank god, I did not have I did not have a brain tumor. I think that I was not really reassured by the fact that I didn't have
a brain tumor. I was. I was grateful, of course, but it didn't bring me the kind of peace that I that I think it maybe should have or or or could have. You know, one thing that's so interesting about tonitis, so maddening about tonitis is that, unlike many other challenges or afflictions we face in life, you can't get a respite from it, right, You can't just take a minute away. It was really hard. I mean, I think I have the language now to describe it as
um as like a mental health crisis, you know. I think I was really going through some some depression at that time, and and a lot of anxiety because, like you said, there's no there's no rest, you know, there's no there's no relaxing. And it made me realize that
like having some quiet is really important. Having a chance to like leave class and just kind of sit on a bench and like not think about anything is really important, and I didn't know how to how to pause anymore, and so I think that that led to a lot of anxiety. And then there was sort of this deeper psychological thing that happened, which which is this fear of my body just failing and things just just failing for
no reason. The depression part of it, or the you know, the hopelessness part of it was more of like an analytical thing happening in my brain where I was I sort of did some transitive property calculation where I was like, well, like if this, if I woke up one day and this happened, then like what could happen tomorrow? You know? And that led to a lot of a lot of fear and a lot of you know, some depression. Which
thing was troubling you more? Was it the physiological sensation of having this constant bringing in your ear or was it this new realization about your own fragility and vulnerability and the fact that your body could just fail you
at any moment in time. Well, to me, they were related, because the physiological experience of being distracted and being you know, not having rest was it was it was acting as a reminder of the existential stuff, the existential questioning, and you know, those big sort of difficult, morbid questions, like we're just as persistent as the sound, if that makes sense, Because to me, like not having the brain tumor, you know, I think I was trying to tell myself that, like, Okay,
well the worst didn't happen here, you know, like things aren't that different. You know, it could have been. It could have been so much more different if chance had sort of broken in a different way. And so I think I was not being honest with myself about the fact that, like the condition that I was experiencing was really dramatic. We'll be right back with a slight change of plants. Ramsay Cobaz could not find a medical explanation for his tenitis, even after speaking with over a half
dozen doctors about it. He tried to find ways to cope with it, that nothing was working, and he continued to feel despondent. One night, about a month after this all began, he was out with his girlfriend and they noticed that an old movie called Hannah and Her Sisters was playing that night at the local theater. Neither of them had seen it, so they bought two tickets and as a warning, this next section contains a brief mention
of suicide. And it's a movie where basically there's there's one subplot where a character who's like a hypochondriac wakes up with like a ringing or buzzing in his ear and he kind of freaks out, goes to the doctor, and the doctor tells him that he might have a brain tumor, and then he is sent down this like existential spiral. And I'm sitting there watching this movie, like, you know, like nudging my girlfriend like can you believe this?
Like this is pretty fucking weird that like this is happening sort of on the margins of this movie, Like this story is exactly what I've been going through this past few weeks. And then he's basically suicidal in his apartment and he has a gun and he's like the gun misfires and he kind of freaks out, and so he leaves his apartment and is walking around New York City and he wanders into a movie theater and he sits down and it's like an old gradual Marx movie
that is really funny and makes him laugh. He says that basically the fact of walking into this movie theater and feeling comforted by movies was sort of restorative of his spiritual crisis. And so I'm sitting there in the theater, like looking at this character looking up at a screen, basically recounting exactly what I was experiencing. You know, I loved movies. I was studying movies at that time, like
I wanted to be a director and a writer. It felt meaningful, and I think that that's that's one thing that I really clinged onto. So I was feeling hope because the movie reflected my experience in a way that felt so unlikely that it must mean something. You know, it is such a common feature of human psychology to want to create narratives and stories for ourselves to try to make sense of our lives. And this tendency, this aspect of human nature we're always trying to build stories
is one of the reasons why we are so resilient. Yeah. I mean, well, there's that famous jendating quote we tell ourselves stories in order to live. I think it's true. It's like we all have this narrative about ourselves. I think when something unexpected happens for a reason that doesn't track with what you've been telling yourself about yourself. You need to fit it into your story somehow. I'm wondering
what impact the tenitis had on your relationships. The way that I was coping with it socially was to kind of just withdraw, I think for the practical reasons of of not really being willing or able to go to like loud spaces like parties and concerts, but then also for the psychological reasons of just feeling not super fun, not super fun to be around, Like I wasn't I wasn't making jokes, I wasn't a great hang at that time,
you know what I mean. I remember I was living in a house off campus, and I was I was sitting on the porch of the house, which was like a little bit elevated above the sidewalk, and um, and I was it was dark, and I could hear some people kind of walking on the sidewalk below, and I heard I heard someone say my name. I heard someone say like, oh, like, doesn't Ramsey live in this house? And then I heard a second voice say yeah, fuck that guy. And I was just like I was like,
oh shit, Like like do what should I say? Like should I make myself known, like what do I do here? And I realized I kind of like took a peek, and I realized that the person who said that was
was one of my closest friends from freshman year. And I can hear I can hear the guy saying like, yeah, like I don't know what happened to that guy, Like he he never wants to hang out, like I haven't seen him in so long, Like he's he was clearly hurt that, like I had kind of fallen off the map, and man like that was a really important signal to me that like my inability to communicate about this experience honestly with people and my tendency to just withdraw instead
of offering some kind of an explanation was actually like, you know, people were experiencing that in a way that was absolutely not what I intended I had. I had sort of let some some people down. I think like a big turning point for you. The realization that you know, I'm I don't know how to communicate about this to others, and I think, as you mentioned, I don't know even how to communicate this to myself. Was that a strong source of motivation for you to really aggressively confront this
problem and tackle it on an emotional level. Yes, it was a bit of a turning point where I just became more aware that, like, I can't just deal with this as something that like was a dodged bullet just because I didn't have a brain tumor. Like, this was still a big deal and very formative and very consequential to my development. And I need to just like say that to people when I when they get to know me,
because it's an important factor in my story. I'm curious Ramsey, whether finally acknowledging what a big deal this was in some way helped you better manage the physiological experience of the tonitis. I think there was two distinct recoveries. There was my psychological sort of reasoning of the experience and becoming more honest with myself and others about it. And then there was simultaneously a physiological thing that happened that I don't know how to explain, where my brain just
stopped perceiving it the way that it did initially. I'm really interested in how my brain was able to over time learn how to not be alarmed by it anymore. I know, in the case of anxiety research that if you find ways to feel less threatened by an anxious thought, it really does lose power over you and can become something you notice less. Does this mirror your experience with tonitis?
When I think about the sound, I used to think about it as like as as like some kind of like a like a conscious enemy, if that makes sense, like something that was that I was fighting, you know. And now when I hear it, like right now, I can just kind of like stop for a second and be like, yet, there it is so there. I don't think of it as an enemy. I literally just think of it like, you know, it's my hand, or like it's my finger, you know, like it's just a part
of my physical self. It's just there. You know. Sometimes I'm a little like like I wish this could just go away. But other times I'm just like, yeah, it's there and doesn't bother me. It's not I'm not fighting it, you know. And I think I remember the first day that I realized that I hadn't thought about it the previous day where I woke up, I was like eating
breakfast or something, and then I like remembered it. It was there like it always is, and I heard it, and I remember thinking to myself, like, holy shit, I don't think. I don't think I thought about this yesterday. Like I don't think I perceived this sound all day yesterday. I don't remember pausing and getting frustrated. I don't remember thinking about it, hearing it like turning on a fan
to mask it. I think I just went the whole day yesterday the way that I would have if I didn't have this ring in my ear, And that was inexplicable to me and like so comforting to know that, like it didn't need to go away in order for
me to not perceive it. When you put different labels on an anxious thought, right as not being the enemy, like you know, it's equivalent of visualizing wanting to like smash the anxious thought with a baseball bat, versus imagining that's the thing in the sky just floating by you and you notice it and you acknowledge it and you let it pass, and it's the same thought in the same way. That's the same sound for you, right, but it just doesn't have the same power over your anxious
brain as it did before. Yeah, yeah, actually I've never thought this before, but I've never put this together. But I think of it as quiet now, I guess if that makes sense, like it is it is my version of quiet when I can't hear anything else but it. That's just sort of my like my meditation space. That's what it feels like to me. If I had asked twenty year old Ramsey, how's this whole tonightist thing going to play out for you? What's required in order for
you to be okay with this? What do you think he would have said? I think I would have had like a determination about me to resolve it medically, because I remember at that time I went to no joke. I think I went to like eight or nine doctors, and the fact that I didn't get an explanation that was satisfying to me was so frustrating for so long that, like, I think I just wanted to continue to track that down.
I think I would have probably told you, like, I'm going to figure out what happened, and I'm gonna I'm gonna solve it. I'm gonna get my I'm gonna get my silence. Because even if it doesn't mean that you're going to get what you want, sometimes an answer feels like it's like fool's gold, but like it feels like it might make a difference even even when it won't. But obviously I would have been wrong. Like I can't even be bothered to read like a research paper that
my like med school friend sends me. Now about this, Like I it's it's not only that I'm not actively pursuing an answer or or a resolution, it's that I'm like indifferent to it. Hey, thanks for listening. Join me next week when I chat with Grammy winning singer songwriter Kasey Musgraves. We talk about her upcoming album and the impact A psychedelic Trip has had on her creative process.
Literally the day after my experience, I mean, it was like the neurons were just firing off, like insane imagery perspective. I mean there was a massive explosion of creativity ideas. The whole concept for my new album that I've been writing, A slight change of Plans is created an executive produced
by me Maya Shunker. Big thanks to everyone at Pushkin Industries, including our producer Mola Board, associate producers David Jaw and Julia Goodman, executive producers Mia Lavelle and Justine Lange, senior editor Jen Guera, and sound design and mixed engineers Ben Holliday and Jason Gambrel. Thanks also to Louise Gara who wrote our theme song, and Ginger Smith who helped arrange the vocals, incidental music from Epidemic Sound, and of course
a very special thanks to Jimmy Lee. You can follow a slight change of plans on Instagram at doctor Maya Shunker. Do you visualize it at all? Though? Like, does it have a shape or a form? So he's been curious about up. This is going to be kind of weird. I've never answered this question before. It feels like a shooting star, kind of like there's some kind of like a like a fluttery, sparkly shimmer around the very direct, fast, straight line, if that makes sense. That's a cool question.
I've literally never I've never said that or thought that out loud, but like that's pretty much what it feels like. Wow, shooting star. Yeah, just like straight, bright, thin and like you notice it. It's just a shooting star in my ear. Everyone wants a shooting star in their ear.