Hear It

The stapedotomy experience was so peculiar. I was so nervous going in. When I finally got back into pre-op, I had to undress and put on this space-age hospital gown. It was made from thick paper, kind of like a vacuum cleaner bag, and similar to said bag, had reinforced circular holes in several places, along with various slits and vents. I also had to put on crotchless socks: knee-highs with no toes, and had my IV drip started. I felt very strange by this point, and even weirder when they hooked up my gown to an in-wall heating unit; a vacuum-cleaner-esque tube was attached to one of my holes and hot air was pumped in. That was the last good sensation I had for about 6 weeks.

Mark and the Manling got to join me, and we chatted and I knitted a bit on my Dashing gauntlets. We were separated from other patients by only a curtain so as we sat and sat and sat and waited for my doctor to arrive at the facility we heard such gems as "let's go ahead and wash your neck" - what kind of procedure was that guy having done? The anesthesiologist came in and went over a bunch of paperwork with me then asked me if I had any chipped teeth. At that point I asked frantically why and whether they were going to stick a tube down my throat. He looked surprised by not as much as I was when he informed me I was going to be put under General Anesthesia. At that point I freaked the fuck out, literally, since Mark and I had been under the assumption that was not the case. So the guy left and verified that it was indeed the case so I told him I was definitely going to need something, i.e. sedation because i was freaking out so badly. He gave me a shot of something, I said goodbye for what I was convinced was going to be the last time ever to Mark and the Manling, then was rolled down the hall and transferred to the operating gurney.

The next thing I recall is waking up in the recovery area, shaking so badly that my teeth were chattering involuntarily about 500x a minute, vomiting several times, and generally being so nauseous that I received a patch and several IV doses of every anti-nausea medication they had on hand. I also received a container holding my now modified stapes bone, a bone which I later learned is the smallest in your body. I spent that night puking but didn't feel too bad on the whole, although I was disappointed because another assumption I was laboring under was that my hearing would be dramatically improved at this point and it wasn't. Another gift I came home with was a couple of scratchy self-dissolving (riiiiight) stitches just behind my ear on my skull where the doctor had taken some tissue to pack in my new, robotic piston prosthetic.

The next day, I was escorted like a 900-year-old woman to a holiday tea, where I sat on a chair and felt the world spin and tilt all around me. Noises felt like they were being broadcast from inside my head and amplified fuzzily, but in general I felt ok. The noise thing didn't wear off for weeks, but the general good feeling wore off the next day. The contents of my head felt like it was expanding, rapidly, while my skull bones were shrinking even faster. I made it through the weekend, barely, the got steroids prescribed on Monday, and a fouler, more bitter-tasting medication there never was. They did the job, though.

One of my myriad post-op instructions involved how to keep my ear canal dry during bathing. I was supposed to coat a cotton ball in vaseline (my least favorite substance ever) and ram it down the canal. I waited 6 days to wash my hair, since I couldn't stand erect until then, and proceeded to get about 50 gallons of water down the tube. My 1-week post-op appointment was the next day so I had the nurse demonstrate the proper technique and was sent home with an equally useless shower cap that fit daintily over my ear. She explained to me then that my hearing would not necessarily seem like it had improved until the packing was removed 6 weeks post-op. At this point I was so frustrated and feeling like I had made the worst decision in my life to have this operation: no discernible improvement, the amplified broadcast noise, the dizziness, the exploding head sensation, the miserable showers and filthy hair.

After 2-3 weeks, my physical sensations seemed lessened so I only had the potential lack of hearing improvement to worry about. The solstice celebration we had helped my spirits improve dramatically, coinciding with the miserable year of abject depression and shit-luck, AKA 2007 nearly being over. The Manling really understands presents now and was a champ-een unwrapper. We didn't really get him many toys: a wooden train set, art supplies, a toy cell phone that made noises/lights (so he'd leave ours alone), and a few odds and ends. My parents got him a kid-sized table and chair set from Ikea and an art easel. He loves the "pretty lights" people hung up in the neighborhood and asked Mark to turn on the ones on ours every night.

But 2007 wasn't done giving me the stink-eye. Mark took my car to work just 2 days before it was finally over because it had snowed a lot and rear-ended a van on an acceleration ramp, which luckily sustained no damage. My car had extensive front-end damage, compounded by a damaged wiring system plug, dirt in the new paint, and a delay in the finishing touches, so it is still in the shop. Thank goodness for rental car coverage in our formerly inexpensive car insurance.

2008 hasn't been too much better and has already given me the biggest fuck you. But that's another blog post....