Micah had his regular "let's visit the ENT because you have ear tubes" appointment yesterday. After his latest set of shiny, new tubes were inserted in December, we waited an entire two months to schedule the next appointment at the end of February. It's fun, having those 8 weeks doctor-free. However, after the February 23rd appointment when the doctor said, "let's schedule for 6-8 weeks," I told the secretary, "schedule us in 4 weeks," because experience has told us that this is the best line of action with Micah.
So, yeh, we visit the ENT a lot. I should get a punch card. Or maybe start taking goodies when I'm in. Something, you know? Maybe every 10th visit I'll get a dime to pay my parking meter. And every 10th visit I'll take in cookies. I'll make mental note of this.
Micah's tympanogram (a measurement of the mobility of the ear drum) showed that Micah's right ear wasn't very mobile. This is generally a sign that a tube has been expelled (or extruded, as they say in the medical field). I chalked it up to heavily clogged with wax, because my mind couldn't fathom otherwise. Turns out, after intense examination by the kind hearted doctor, that the right ear did, indeed, expel the tube that was placed just 3 months ago.
FOR CRYING OUT LOUD.
Is there a prize for Ears That Won't Retain Tubes? Is there a consolation for children and parents who need to be subject to this kind of insanity? Is there a reward for doctors who experience the same frustration as parents do over this, and research all they can just to try to help the situation?
Thank goodness for a sense of humor, because I just laughed. Honestly, what else are you going to do? I have learned long ago that laughter is life's best medicine. If you don't laugh, you'll end up crying instead, and that's just messy and awkward in most situations. And despite our frequent visits, I'm not sure the doctor knows me well enough to know that laughter is my defense mechanism. She may think that I'm cold hearted and cruel, laughing because my son needs sedated yet again.
Let me remind you that between December and March, Micah was sedated for dental work as well. It's so routine and easy, and yet isn't something one should have done on a bi-monthly basis, either.
The good doc referred us to an ear specialist for further consultation about Micah's teeny, tiny ear drums that seem to resent any intrusion into their personal space. I learned something yesterday. I had no idea that the ENT field was further narrowed down to just ears. I should have known, but it's one of those things you just don't think about because there are a half a kajillion other things to think about at any given minute of any random day. She's hoping that, perhaps, this other doctor will know of a type of ear tube that she's not heard of, or has a Super Glue solution that's compatible with ear drums. (I'm hoping this now, too, of course.) If not, we'll simply return home and have our faithful and very trusted doc do the minor procedure in the comfort of our own local hospital. Again.
Between you and me and all the internet, I'm not exactly holding my breath. The last time we ventured from the happy confines of our very trusted doc's practice, the doctor we were assigned had an attitude that was larger than he was, and not only belittled me but bragged that his T-tubes would stay in for several years, as they were designed to do. He didn't listen when I told him that Micah had that type already, and expelled them in under a year's time. That doc's ear tubes set the record for Least Time Spent In Micah's Ear Drum. That was 3 months. We've now tied that record, but at least the doc inserting the current(ly missing) tube is aware of the frustrating condition at hand and doesn't give attitude. But hey, it doesn't hurt to ask, right? Perhaps they'll invent something new between now and next Tuesday. One can hope, right?