Comma Chameleon

Ethan has an ear infection in his "little ear." Because you need an eardrum to sense an ear infection and Ethan has no ear drum, we had no way of knowing. Nobody had any way of knowing until Dr. Brad made his incision. In fact, had it not been for this surgery today, Dr. Brad suggests that the infection would ultimately have either gone away on its own (although he did feel compelled to label it a "massive" infection, and come on, have you met me? have you seen what passes for luck in my life?) or spread to the other ear where Ethan is equipped to sense it. Of course at that point we'd be up to our ears in fever, tears and heartache ... cats and dogs living together ... Just plain carnage.

So the good news is that we discovered an infection that could have really laid E low. The bad news is that the infection was so massive that Dr. Brad couldn't finish the surgery, which in itself actually contains some very good news. First, we now know the condition of Ethan's ear bones. The incus and malleus had to go and Dr. Brad removed them today. The stapes was apparently salvageable and when we return in a few months, Dr. Brad will use it, completing the chain with prosthetic ear bones. The other good news is that the facial nerve is nowhere near being in jeopardy. So Ethan now has a hole -- the rough framework for the ear canal. We will have to come back once the infection has gone away (he's already had his first dose of antibiotics) when Dr. Brad will re-open, place the prosthetic bones in place, create the ear drum using cartilage from behind the ear, and line the new ear canal with a skin graft from the upper arm.

If I were on the outside looking in I would expect that I'd be sad or deflated. I wish I could explain why, but I'm not. In fact, I was so giddy to learn that Ethan was OK that I couldn't really think of anything else.

So Ethan was released from the hospital, groggy and even cuter than when we dropped him off. We had intended to stay until tomorrow, but the prospect of sleeping in our own beds -- of sleeping at all -- is really attractive right now. Plus this area is expecting a snowstorm tonight and driving in snow is even less attractive than not sleeping through another night.

I promised Thomas one more trip to the pool so we're heading down there now. After that we'll hit the open road, stopping off at Sheetz for a few dozen Starbuck's double shots.

To all who once again offered your mojo, thank you. Hope you have a little in reserve since it looks like we'll need it again in a few weeks or however long it takes to get rescheduled.

So let me end this post not with a period, as in "end of the statement," but with a comma, as in "to be continued."

"It ain't easy being green." -- Kermit the Frog

As Of Thursday, 7 a.m.

I'm literally working on 15 non-contiguous minutes of sleep since 5:30 yesterday morning, so I'm just gonna bullet point and pray that this makes sense. Aiming for the screen in the middle, as it were. I promise photos and videos when we get back home and have had a chance to rest. Meanwhile ...

- Woke to snow covered ground and temps in the low twenties Wednesday morning. Oh, sweet, creamy Jesus, nothing says "road trip" like ice-slicked roads and the world's worst drivers. (Seriously, Delaware? That whole tax-free shopping thing? Well, I for one would gladly pay a few percent in sales tax if you promise to use the money to teach your citizens how to drive, m'kay?)

- Trip was fairly uneventful save for some slight weirdness in the men's room at Denny's (pee break number 3) where some guy was asleep and snoring in the stall.

- Speaking of snoring, it finally occurred to me what Sandi's snoring reminds me of: an 18-wheeler gently swerving onto the rumble strips. If you slowed it down it would sound like "nyugugugugugug." She even glances off the guard rail with a "brupfffshissssssshhhhhhhh." Her highway sounds and the ebb and flo of my CPAP last night made an odd rhythm section that would have been at home in a yet unwritten Tom Waits "trucking up the coast" song. Diamond on My Windshield. Truckers in the Sand. Whatever. Did I mention I haven't slept in days?

- Also passed a store owned by 2 brothers (can't remember the name) on Rt. 29 that offered guns, gun cleaning, a gun range, gun safes, gun accessories, ammo (both factory and reloads), targets, fireworks and cold soda. Couldn't help wonder what it was like living next to those brothers as kids. Mom, have you seen the dog? Not another one!

- The kids watched 2 whole movies on the way down and still had time to pretend to play Go Fish without cards (Thomas: "Got any penguins?" Ethan: "No." Thomas: "Ethan, you're supposed to say 'yes.'" Ethan: "Yes." Thomas: "DAMMIT!" It occurs to me that I never understood that game.)

- We made it to Charlottesville about an hour ahead of time. What a beautiful town! Of course most of the UVA kids look like they're trying to get back at their rich parents. Look At This Fucking Hipster would die and think they'd gone to heaven. Whatever. I come from the generation that brought you the Achy Breaky hair, so I am in no place to point a glamorous finger. Still, I can't help but thinking of Clarice Starling, wondering in which buildings she had classes.

- Ethan had his hearing test, then we met the man. Dr. Brad is everything we'd hoped for and more. You can see the smart wafting off him like hot on a desert highway. Ethan liked him instantly. Dr. Brad explained what would happen during surgery: he'll make the incision, drill through to the middle ear creating the canal, fashion an ear drum from some cartilage behind the ear, then take a skin graft from the upper arm to line the newly formed canal. He says that often the only post-op pain kids experience is from the skin graft. After everything's in place, he'll pack the ear and send Ethan to recovery.

- We decided that Thomas' voice should be the first voice Ethan hears with his new ear. Thomas is practicing.

- After our consultation we had to go to the pre-surgery area. When we arrived we were handed a 4-page questionnaire to fill out. Had to wait 2 hours just to hand that paperwork to some woman who sounded just like Paula Dean, y'all. 2 hours. In a waiting room. With 2 young boys who have been awake and moving since 5:30 that morning. And all the TVs had Glenn Beck on. God help me.

- I promised to take the kids to the pool, so when we got back to the hotel we got changed and took a dip. I opted for the hot tub. I may opt for it again tonight if the cosmos align. Just me and Thomas since Sandi's staying with Eth tonight.

- The restaurant at the hotel apologized for having no food. We ordered out. Ate dinner at about 8, which could explain why none of us slept well.

- This morning's free coffee was worth every penny.

- Up at 4:30 this morning to check Ethan in at 6.

- Ethan was observably freaked out this morning. He wanted to get changed back into his clothes and leave. He wouldn't take the liquid they offered to "take the edge off" and make anesthetizing that much easier. So Sandi had to get dressed in scrubs and go with him into the OR where they pumped chocolate-scented anesthesia through a mask. Sandi was pretty upset when she came back. That was the last time either of us will see him until his surgery is complete.

- We grabbed a little breakfast and have since set up shop in the waiting area (think People of Walmart, only fatter). Bill O'Reilly is on. Jesus, am I glad I didn't wear my Democracy Now! t-shirt or bring the book I'm reading: The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins. Saw quite a few rebel flags on the way here. Yeah, no.

- Thomas and I walked back to the hotel for pooping privacy and a little Imagination Movers. Ethan should be out of surgery between 11:30 and 12:30. Dr. Brad will send update messages to us throughout the morning, and assures us that he'll have a really clear idea of what kind of result we can expect when the surgery's over. Honestly, I've never worried less about another human being's competency in my life. I am a little sad that I didn't get to meet Ronnie Bean on this trip, but we've left messages with co-workers.

Ronnie: If you still read this, thanks so much for everything. So sorry we missed you. Maybe next week on our follow-up visit?

So now it's back to the hospital to oversee Thomas' homework and dream of warmer, hearinger days. But before I go I want to thank ALL of you who have sent your messages of support and good wishes. I'm not kidding when I say that we can feel the vibes, so please keep them coming. Love to you all.

"Daddy, I got you something from the store. *fart* Hee hee." -- Ethan

Doin' The Ear Canal Dance, Baby!

My brain is on fire. The holidays have officially passed, the decorations have been put away and, ironically, my heart is racing more at the excitement of the coming days than for any recent holiday memory. (And believe me, we've had some pretty damn good times over the past few weeks.) Tomorrow and Tuesday are all that stand between us and Virginia and our appointment with destiny ... er, Dr. Brad ... and I now find myself fighting with my mind, begging it to focus on even the simplest task.
The day is close. Close enough to pack today and not be thought a jackass. Close enough to work into casual conversation (Oh, I'd LOVE to but I'm afraid I'll be in Charlottesville for a few days while Ethan undergoes surgery. What? Oh, no, nothing serious. He'll only be able to HEAR NORMALLY FOR THE FIRST TIME IN HIS LIFE!) Close enough to monopolize my every waking minute. Close.
I confess I haven't been able to get too excited about the holidays for a lot of years. Some of that is probably due to me steeling myself in order to make the days pass more bearably. I mean, when you're anxious all the time, time is not your friend. It passes way too leisurely, almost audibly taunting you with its nya-nya nya-nya nyaaaa nyaaaaaaaa and daring you to kiss its slow-moving ass. So I've been intentionally taking the time to drink in the week and a half I've been home with the kids: Trips to the aquarium, train rides, museums, indoor playgrounds ... . And then there were the holidays themselves. So much life packed into such a short time. And through these days I've often caught myself just staring at them, not wanting a minute to pass where I wasn't sensing them in some way. Trying to catch them in the act of growing before my very eyes.
It's been such a treat, too. Our ordinary routine gives us about 2 hours per evening to do homework, cook and eat dinner, take showers and do our reading. That's pretty god damned pathetic, I think. And I'll be sadder than I'll know how to handle when we're forced to reinsert ourselves into that rut, eventually saved, albeit temporarily, by summer's easier pace.

During one of the jam-packed days of adventure that have been our last week and a half, we decided to add to Ethan's already considerable Christmas take. But this purchase wasn't purely pleasure and/or appeasement. Many of the parents of microtic kids we've talked to have strongly suggested that we score an Under Armour skull cap to hold the post-op ear dressing firmly in place. And so one cold day last week, amidst an itinerary that included a trip to the Train Museum and quite a few frames of bowling among other activities, we stopped by the nearby Under Armour Outlet store. Ethan picked out not only a bright red skull cap, but a matching bright red headband ... uh, for accessory's sake I guess. And because nobody wants to be the only kid in the group with a skull cap, no matter how badass it makes you look, I picked up a black one for me. You know, as a show of solidarity. Yeah, like those parents who run marathons in honor of their child's birth defect. Totally noble and totally not because it gives me an excuse to look totally badass or anything. Did I mention these things make you look totally badass?
Anyway, we're taking one long, last look at Ethan's virgin ear. We're savoring it, burning its image into our minds so that we'll never forget what this time has been like. May our lives after this week be as drenched with love as our lives before have been.
Ethan, we love you more than our own lives. Whatever happens, know that.

"A long December and there's reason to believe maybe this year will be better than the last. I can't remember all the times I tried to tell myself to hold on to these moments as they pass." -- Adam Duritz