In the quiet realm behind the ear's thin drum, Where whispers wane and echoes softly hum, Lurks a growth benign, but trouble still it brings, A cholesteatoma, where shadowed malady clings.
Born of ear infections, a tale well known, Where eustachian tubes falter, and skin cells are sown, In hidden recesses, they find their place, A cyst-like bloom in a delicate space.
Skin cells gather, a steady, secret flow, Growing unseen, their damage begins to show, The ossicles suffer, their function impaired, The dance of sound becomes faint and ensnared.
Hearing fades softly, like a distant song, A muffled world where once it was strong, Discharge seeps forth with an acrid, foul trace, An unwelcome visitor, a grimace on the face.
Vertigo spins, a dizzying plight, Balance falters in the dead of night, And if nerves are touched, a rare, cruel jest, Facial weakness, a hidden unrest.
Untreated, it may spread, a dire chance, Infections, meningitis, a somber dance, To the brain, it may venture, an abscess to form, A tempest unleashed, a clinical storm.
But hope lies in surgery, skill’s gentle hand, To cleanse the growth and restore what’s planned, To heal the damage, to mend and repair, Restoring the harmony lost in despair.
So heed the signs, and seek aid without delay, For health’s delicate balance can fade away, In the ear’s quiet chamber where shadows may loom, A cholesteatoma finds its darkened room.
