Mumbling Madly

The Seafair is new to me…I don’t know what I was doing the last time I lived in Seattle: How could I have missed it? The biggest, most bad-ass, aircraft fly loudly in formations in the sky for a whole week. People flock in their boats to Lake Washington where they forget to apply sunscreen. Hydro boat races go on all day, gaining local coverage on several news channels. Everything feels very all american, patriotic, truck rally sort of wonderful. Last night, Josh and I took in some Ivars while admiring all the sunburned flesh out on the water, (note my Cupcake Royale tee):

Ah, the Blue Angels, how we love to watch them dart across the sky. Josh and I spent this morning hobnobbin at the local farmer’s market. Than we waited for the bus so we could avoid fighting the traffic. Our sweet little local beach had developed a rare and slightly manic crowd of on-lookers. The bus was terribly late. We spotted the Blue Angels through trees, flying past us several times.
We showed up and caught the last fifteen minutes of the air show. We oohed and aahed and craned our neck upward into the bright sky. Loud music wailed from some old white guy’s boat radio: “We Are the Champions!” “In the Navy!” and even “Macho, Macho, Maaan!” Perhaps a patriotic mix tape whipped up for this special occasion?
We waited for the bus while drinking Light Frappuccinos and reading the free local rags. The crowd slowly thinned out. Longingly we watched people manuever their boats around the lake, wishing we had a boat too.

My fatigue is still a casual foe, an old friend who appears from time to time–usually while I’m fitting ballet slippers at work or talking to a friend. My temporary hearing loss has forced people to stand at my left; otherwise I resort to lip reading. However, I feel improvement. The ringing has finally disappeared and I have returned to wearing one solitary earplug in my uninjured ear as I have for the past ten years. Wearing the earplug again is like embracing a beloved stuffed animal or security blanket. My body recognizes the earplug immediately and rewards me with deep sleep.
Yesterday I slumped after a vigorous Kris B., while we perused the Madrona and Downtown Public Library, visited Cupcake Royale not once but twice (first time for coffee second time for cupcakes of course), ate cheap sushi from a conveyer belt, and finally settled into book reading and internet browsing inside and away from the summer heat.
Later we sat through mindless Aurora traffic trying to reach Ballard, my mind glazed over as Josh and Kris talked digital. We met up with the Notorious K.T. and ate bad Mexican in a tiny local joint. (Sorry guys, but it was pretty bad, even if we were supporting a local biz).
I successfully washed my hair for the second time since surgery. It was another milestone, a sign that I’m getting better. I have a large, exciting, stack of books from the library:

Don’t go to the cosmetics counter without me: an eye opening guide to brand name cosmetics by Paula Begoun. I love the Cosmetic Cop, and this book is a real treat. It contains every single brand out on the shelves as we know it. From total rip-off claims to really cheap recommendations, this book is an excellent resource. I may have to purchase it because there’s no way I could get through this fat book before its due back.

The Best American Nonrequired Reading 2004 edited by Dave Eggers. I was inspired to read this book because I love anthologies and my beloved Michelle Tea is one of the authors.

What Not to Wear: For Every Occasion , by Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine. This was surprisingly disappointing. It seems the answer to every occasion is to pair a dress with pants. While I like that look, I don’t know if everyone can pull it off or if it’s appropriate for every occasion, like an interview for instance. The book also prescribes to a more high society community, indicating what to wear for skiing in the Swiss Alps or attending a formal dinner party. I understand not recommending ponytails and tapered pants, but approving a hat covered with fake butterflies? Really?

The Courage to Teach: Exploring the Inner Landscape of a Teacher’s Life by Parker J. Palmer. I actually borrowed this book from the independent school that I’ll be teaching at this school year. It’s on their recommended summer reading list. I want to enjoy this book, but so far it is so dry I’ve moved on to more fun reading.

Living Yoga: Creating a Life Practice by Christy Turlington. No big surprise, this book was so cold I felt alienated. The beautiful former supermodel is shot exquisitely in full color, there she is in India, there she is in ‘the fish’ pose…Most of the book is about the theory behind yoga, which in typical Western fashion, I found painfully boring. There was a little autobiographical input from the famous author, but it only skimmed the surface and seemed forced.

I had no idea how mutilated I might feel. In this photo you can see the incision snake all the way into the top of my ear canal:

All bandaged up in back, despite the absence of multiple stitches–ouch!

I was exhausted after this appointment. I didn’t learn a whole lot of new info other than my ear had been continually trying to heal my defunct eardrum resulting in calcium deposits and thick scar tissue plus a little skin growth. I still can’t hear very well, it’s really surprising. I fully expected for the doc to uncork my bandaged ear and viola! Perfect Ear. This was not the case. Yes, the ear drum looks great, but it’s still a battle zone. There’s still dried blood everywhere and my drum is still learning how to function. I have been up to my ears (ha ha) in antibiotic ointment–the coldest, tickliest, ear drops twice a day. I’ve found comfort in wearing a single cotton ball. It’s as if my ear is afraid to go out in public after 10 days of wrapped seclusion.
Yesterday I looked in the mirror and my right ear looked ghastly compared to my left ear. Suddenly I worried that when they removed cartilage from behind my ear they actually sewed me up wrong and made my right ear stick out more than my left. I am uneven! I expressed my panic to Josh and he reminded me that my ear was swollen.
I was instructed not to get my ear close to water–not even a drop! “Put a Dixie cup over your ear and have Josh help you,” is what the good doctor instructed. This was a miserable experience. Josh tried to turn our bathtub into some sort of salon, having me hang my head back like I was having my hair professionally washed. It was awkward and uncomfortable but I have to hand it to Josh, without him I would still have greasy hair.

I sit here, the morning of the removal of my bandage. Despite Josh bribing me with a yoga mat if I kept my bandage secure over the weekend…I cracked yesterday. Unbeknownst to me, the doctor removed a keloid scar I had acquired on the back of my ear from a hack piercing job eleven years ago. While it was very nice of him to remove it, he attached my entire bandage to the stitches from the keloid removal–an anchor so to speak. Every time I moved, the stitches would pull. By the time Kris, Josh, and I were perusing the fine shelves of Costco, the pain was unbearable and it was everything I could do not to pass out in the middle of the monstrous aisles.
When we returned home, Josh took the role of Doctor (get your mind out of the gutter) and set to work on freeing me. He snipped the offending stitch, removed the dried blood from the dressing (which had become sharp and was stabbing the side of my head), and reattached the plastic cup on my head. I got a quick glimpse of my ear: crusty, formally very bloody, kinda tender from the sudden light of day. I looked like Frankenstein: stitches lining the back of the ear, the little nub at the front and of course the delicate little keloid scar on the back of my ear lobe was missing and stitched. WOW.
To be continued after my follow up appointment this afternoon…