Chapter 5 - THE AMBER BOTTLE
The toxicology report did not give me a miracle.
I was grateful for that.
I had spent enough of my life around people selling certainty.
The compounded medication in my amber bottle contained a substance sometimes used for severe neurological symptoms but not recommended for prolonged use in someone with my pattern of inner-ear injury.
Independent specialists reviewed three years of records.
Their conclusion was cautious.
The blast had caused severe bilateral sensorineural hearing loss.
That was real.
However, early objective testing showed residual auditory nerve activity.
My later deterioration could not be attributed to one factor with certainty.
Possible contributors included the original injury, scar progression, and prolonged exposure to a medication with known ototoxic potential.
More importantly:
I should have received independent implant evaluation years earlier.
I had not.
One specialist, Dr. Hannah Lee, sat across from me and signed as she spoke so I could follow easily.
You were never guaranteed recovery.
I nodded.
But “nothing can be done” was not supported by the early data.
That sentence mattered.
Not:
They stole perfect hearing from you.
Reality was not that clean.
They stole informed choice.
They stole options.
They stole the chance to obtain an independent opinion.
I asked:
Can anything be done now?
Dr. Lee hesitated.
Possibly.
I hated that word.
I loved it too.
She recommended extensive testing for cochlear implantation.
Maybe one ear.
Maybe neither.
Maybe sound perception without speech comprehension.
No promises.
I agreed.
Then another revelation arrived.
My prescription history contained unauthorized renewals.
Wexler personally approved every refill.
But Sabrina repeatedly picked them up.
Once, after I had messaged Wexler saying the medication made me dizzy and I wanted to stop, he replied:
Do not discontinue abruptly. We’ll discuss next visit.
That visit was canceled.
Sabrina told me Wexler had an emergency.
The prescription continued.
Wexler’s calendar showed no emergency.
He had been in his office.
I remembered that day.
Sabrina took me to lunch.
Ordered my favorite meal.
Held my hand.
Told me to trust the process.
I wondered if she had loved me.
The terrible answer was probably yes.
People can love someone and still decide control is acceptable.
May you like
That does not make the control less real.
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