For almost a year I’ve heard a whooshing sound in my right ear.  It didn’t bother me at first, but then I made the mistake of googling it. After that, I tried to ignore it. This worked for a while, especially when I was occupied by other worries. But as I approached the one-year mark I decided it might be wise to have it checked out.

“Ah,” said the doctor, “this kind of tinnitus can be caused by brain tumors and aneurysms and carotid artery blockages. You’ll need a CT scan … but no rush.”

I’d like to say he was kidding, but I don’t think he was. I made an appointment the next day, had a scan within the week — and heard yesterday that my tinnitus has a benign cause, thank God.

So now I can write about the whoosh and how it has become a companion of sorts. It’s the sound of my heartbeat, amplified. It’s the rhythm of life. The whoosh is a constant biofeedback session. When I’m aware of it most, in quiet moments, I try to still myself to make my heart beat more slowly. It’s a constant reminder to take life easy — even though I seldom heed it.

I wouldn’t wish a whoosh on everyone. But in a strange way, I’ve come to count on mine.