I Tried the Lenire Tinnitus Device. And it Worked, Sort Of

If the title caught your eye, you and I probably share an annoying condition. Make that seriously annoying. Although tinnitus—a constant ringing or squealing [1] in the "ears"—isn't terminal, it feels eternal, especially since there’s little that can be done to stop it. That’s because tinnitus isn't a sound anyone else can hear; in fact, it isn’t a sound at all.

My non-squealing colleague, Dr. Chuck Dinerstein, wrote a comprehensive article on tinnitus in February after the first-ever treatment received FDA approval. (The results of the large clinical trial showing efficacy were published in Nature in 2022.)

I also interviewed Dr. Craig Kasper, a pioneering expert in the field, back in 2021. He provided detailed insight into the condition, which you can read here

The accepted definition of tinnitus is the awareness of a sound without the presence of an external sound source.

Craig Kasper, M.D.

But you’re not here to reread clinical trial data or even Silent Chuck’s article. Nope. You fellow sufferers want to hear (sorry) from a Lenire guinea pig — and I’m on my wheel, ready to spin my own experience. (Yes, I know guinea pigs don’t run on wheels. I'm guilty of mixed mammalian metaphors. Deal with it.)

The Lenire Device: Sensory Splendor

It's hard to describe the experience to a Lenire virgin, but I'll try. 

The components of the Lenire device. Images: Lenire website

First Experience: Pain

This isn't precisely true. The device doesn't hurt one bit, but buying it is a different matter. This bad boy isn't cheap. I spent 4,000 of my favorite dollars on it. Does insurance pay for it?

Let's take that as a no. Apparently, this guy laughed so hard at the prospect of insurance coverage that his left hand fell off and was replaced by a second right hand with 5 fingers and no thumb. For all its wonders, ChatGPT sometimes fails miserably as an artist. 

Second Experience: Weirdness

The introduction to the Lenire is done in the office. The doctor provided moron-proof — or at least moron-resistant instructions, which involved turning on the controller, turning on the headphones, connecting the two by Bluetooth and plugging the Bizarro tongue thing into the controller. An autistic tree snail can do this.

Next, I was escorted to a darkish room and the party began. Headphones on, tongue thing held between my lips resting on the top of the tongue, and away we go.

First up is a few seconds of what sounds like ocean waves followed by an eerie sequence of tones with some strange sounding s### going on in the background. (For any pianists out there think: Debussy's La Cathédrale Engloutie (The Sunken Cathedral). Next is the weird part.

After about 30 seconds, the tongue thing gets going on top of the ear tone, mimicking the same melody (?) but it seems that it's coming from your tongue! Not only that, but the "tongue sounds" are a bit like a piccolo on Adderall with each "note" broken into ~ 2-10 pulses depending on the rhythm of the melody. Perhaps weirder is that each pulse is accompanied by one of the electrodes firing in a specific part of your tongue. When it fires it delivers a tiny electric shock which feels like soda bubble tickling a small area. 

It is the combination of the two different sounds plus the tongue tickling that is thought to help 'reprogram' the brain’s auditory pathways (see Dr. Kasper’s interview for the actual science behind this).

Next: Imaginary Boogie Fever

As if the experience isn't strange enough, after a few minutes the tempo picks up and the melody goes from weird to weirder. Now it has a lively beat– not suitable dance music for either American Bandstand or Soul Train–and for the next ~20 minutes it rocks on, generating more annoying tongue-tickling bubbles. Finally, about 5 minutes before the end it goes back to the original melody and tempo, gradually dying out as the cathedral sinks back into the murky darkness. Then, at exactly 30 minutes, you’re done [2].

Repeat twice every day, preferably at the same time, and back to the office in 6 weeks.

Did it Work?

The efficacy of the device is measured by a series of questions designed to gauge the impact of the tinnitus on your daily life. At my first follow-up appointment I was on the right side of the bell curve. It worked so well that I barely noticed the tinnitus anymore and its impact on my life was minimal. A+

Not So Fast

Since Lenire device is reported to give relief for an extended time after discontinuation of the twice-daily treatments I was instructed to cut back to once a day and it would be OK if I didn't use it every day. During the next 6 weeks things went South. The tinnitus crept back in, not to its original volume but enough to become noticeable again. C+

Months Later

I'm not quite back to pre-treatment levels but it's not great either. I try to use it once a day but sometimes forget. And there no longer seems to be much of a benefit regardless of whether I use it or not. Dr. Kasper told me that there is a connection between tinnitus and stress and anxiety, and there is no shortage of either, perhaps starting on October 30th when Aaron Judge dropped a normally-trivial flyball in centerfield during game 5 of the World Series, short circuiting any chance of the Yankees making a comeback at the Stadium, extending the non-championship year streak to 15 years.

Was It Worth It?

I'm not sure—because I don't know what really happened after the 6-week mark. Was it a placebo effect that faded? Did I talk myself out of the benefits (perhaps a downside of being a scientist)? Would it work again if life calmed down—even just briefly—before the Yankees inevitably stink it up again?

I just don’t know. It’s a lot of money, and it did work—at least for a while.

Final grade: Incomplete. 

Note:

[1] Others describe tinnitus as buzzing, whistling, whooshing, or hissing. All of them suck.

[2] But the makers of the device caution that you shouldn't fall asleep during your half hour. I'm not sure why, but here's what happened to me. If the electrodes lose contact with your tongue for XX minutes the thing stops. Then you have YY minutes to get it going again or it resets and you have to start over. Perhaps worse, if you really go to sleep after ZZ minutes the power shuts off. This should be no big deal but then the woman in the headphones screams POWER OFF, as if it is trying to wake the dead. Scares the s### out of me.