An Abysmal Failure at an Attempt at Vanity

With my cancer treatment nearly wrapped, I have been looking at the possibility of having a prosthetic ear stuck on the side of my head. This is the story of my failed attempts at vanity, a story that I consider most hilarious. I hope you will as well.

It started with research. Doesn’t it always? My research typically begins with Google. I begin by looking at pictures of other folks with prosthetic ears. Not too bad; someone out there is doing good work. Before I go down this road, I need to know more. Pictures can be deceiving, and they often don’t tell the whole story. These photos didn’t. I should also mention, before I even started this research, I am about 86.3% sure I do not want a prosthetic ear. It just seems like a whole thing, for something I don’t really care about. If I had my nose hacked off, I would be singing a different tune. But I didn’t. Just my left ear, which is a bummer as it was my favorite ear. But whatever, here I am.

What I learned is there are three ways to attach a prosthetic ear. One way is surgically, something I wouldn’t even consider. I imagine there will be problems with it in the future, and who wants to deal with surgery every time something goes wrong? Another way is to glue it on, hopefully with an adhesive NOT purchased at The Home Depot. The other way is to have a few titanium bolts drilled into my head, allowing me to attach a magnetic ear. It would be a series of three bolts installed in a half-moon shape, the heads properly rounded and polished to a high sheen. Hmmm, that’s interesting—a magnetic ear. Maybe I can slap a Go-Pro on there, or a flashlight or something. The possibilities seem endless.

I start reading more about the process, the pros, and the cons. One particular site I came across talked about how it is possible that the ear could fall off during rigorous physical activity or playing sports. That’s not a big surprise. Something that did surprise me, as I read more, is the ear could also fall off at any time. Yes, you read that right. Apparently, I could be walking down the street, and my ear could just fall off. My mind goes wild with the possibilities.

I imagine a family from some terrible little town in a landlocked state who has always wanted to see the coast. After saving for a while, they are finally able to make the trip happen. They hop in the car for a long drive, with sunshine, salty air, and frothing waves on their minds. They make it to the coast, dump their bags in the hotel, throw on shorts, and head for the beach as fast as their legs can take them.

It’s a glorious day, a bit breezy, but warm. Their youngest son, about six years old, starts building a sandcastle. It’s something he has always wanted to do. He has been planning it out in his mind since his parents told him they would take the family to the coast. It has turrets and even a moat. He has it almost complete; he just needs to grab a bucket of seawater to dump into the moat. As he is doing so, and immensely proud of his creation (it really is quite impressive for a six-year-old), he sees a man walking in his direction, casting a long shadow. Just as the man gets close, a gust of wind rushes through, and his ear flies off and lands in the moat. Half stuck in the sand, half sticking out, like a deformed fish. Needless to say, this ruins beach day for the kid. In fact, he never seems to get over this traumatic event in his mind, always believing it is possible for a person’s ear to just fly off, and he never builds a sandcastle again.

Now, the question is, do I want to be that guy who ruins beach day for some family from a terrible little town in some landlocked state? Not at all. I want them to bask in the warm glow of the blazing sun, and inhale the salty air, and build sandcastles.

Ruining beach day for some kid is not the only drawback of having a prosthetic ear. From what I have learned, I will need to purchase a new ear every year. Evidently, these things wear out, and they need to be replaced regularly. I know myself well enough to know that I will try and drag it out as long as possible. I can imagine Hailey trying to get me to buy a new one, with me telling her I think this one still has a few more months of use on it, even when it absolutely does not. On top of that, do I need to have a backup ear? Will someone come over to our house, only to open a drawer to see four or five “backup” ears?

At this point in my research, I am 96.7% sure I will not be going down this path, but I would still like to consult with an expert if my Googling has led me to believe inaccurate information. This is when I found out it is much more complicated than one might think to find someone to install a prosthetic ear.

When I inquired of my coordinating oncologist who can perform this type of surgery, she said, “I don’t know. Call Dr. Golden (my surgeon at SCI), and he should have a referral for you.” And he did. He referred a doctor with these letters at the end of his name: DDS

This broke my brain. A dentist? Seriously? That sounds utterly preposterous to me. I can’t rectify it in my mind. I can’t make these two things fit together. A dentist and an ear. But as it turns out, he was absolutely right. It is a dentist who performs this type of surgery, but not an ordinary dentist. The kind of doctor is a prosthodontist, someone who has gone through thirteen or fourteen years of schooling to get to this level of surgery. From what I understand, and this could be full of holes, a prosthodontist starts out going to dental school, then moves on to maxillofacial training, then onto prosthetics of the face. This is one reason there are so few prosthodontists out there.

I call to make an appointment for a consultation with this prosthodontist, and I go through the motions of answering a litany of questions. We agree on a date for the appointment. At the end of the call, the patient care coordinator mentions that this particular prosthodontist is out of network for all insurance companies. I will be on the hook for the charges. That’s it, folks. Game over. You want to put bolts in the side of my head and for me to pay for the privilege to do so? I cancel the appointment.

At this point, I am 99.278% sure I do not want to get a prosthetic ear, but I will give it one more shot. I call my insurance company. I ask for a referral to a prosthodontist that is in-network. The gal asks how to spell prosthodontist, I tell her. I also mention I had to look up how to spell it myself. She says she will email me a list of five prosthodontists in the Seattle area, and if none of them are to my liking, call back, and she will email me five more. Red flags are fluttering in front of my eyes. How can there be that many in the Seattle area when the UW Prosthetics department doesn’t even offer ears?

I start in on the list, and to my amusement, these are all prosthetics suppliers. Like I am going to order one up and glue it to the side of my head myself. All of them are suppliers, except one—Nordstrom. Hmmm, it must be Nordstrom surgeons or something like that. I click on the link to the map of where it is located. Alderwood Mall. Somethings fishy. I click on the link for their website. It brings me to the Nordstrom department store website, complete with an offer to apply for a credit card and get $40 off any purchase upon approval. At this point, I am 100% sure I will not be getting a prosthetic ear, but I have to see this through. I go to my insurance companies’ website and do a provider search (something that is seriously lacking and often an incomplete list, that’s why I usually call to inquire about providers). Yep, right there, listed as in-network, is Nordstrom retailers. Maybe they will cover an earring or ear muffs or something for me to pretty up my surgery site.

After I stop laughing, I call my surgeon at SCI and schedule an appointment to have a minor little surgery to “clean up” some cartilage that has built up since my last surgery.

*Update*

I met with my surgeon yesterday morning. He clarified a few things for me. No prosthodontist will be in-network. Insurance deems ears and noses and things like that as non-essential, or optional in other words, so you are on the hook for these things yourself. I can see how that is true for an ear, but a nose? That’s crazy. Based on a short bit of research, breast cancer is not included in the definition of non-essential. Rest easy, ladies; you shall be put back together if you like.

He also mentioned that I would not need to buy a new ear every year, more like every three years. He also explained that the bolts installed in your head do not necessarily have to protrude outside of your skull anymore, they can be buried deep into the bone, and your skin can be sutured up over the top, making them invisible. That’s pretty cool, but I have moved on. I scheduled my next and hopefully final surgery, for next month. I won’t even have to be put under for this. Just some relaxing drugs, plenty of lidocaine, and good sharp instruments will get the job done. And hopefully a steady hand.

I have a scan next week. I will have an MRI with contrast dye of my brain, something I haven’t had since my first one in Arizona. Dr. Park, my coordinating oncologist, explained she wants to do this to “close me out.” She also ordered a full-body CT scan, the same kind of scans I get every three months and will continue to get. After this scan, if nothing noteworthy is spotted, she will officially deem me in remission.