[A]nd the end of all of our exploring shall be to arrive where we started and know that place for the first time.
I could make this post about music, since it’s Music Monday. And if I were to make this post about music, I’d tell you how, right now in the pouring rain, I am listening to Fleetwood Mac’s album The Dance, which was once a new album of this iconic 70s band’s songs revisited. And now the “new” album, The Dance, has become an old album (and I too have become old). And as I sit here with the relentless rain outside my window, I am moved by my nostalgia over the time in my life where I had nostalgia over the song Dreams, as heard on The Dance, because it reminded me of trips, driving across the vast, flat entirety of North Dakota to reach my grandparent’s home in Crosby, ND with my family in our gray Rambler station wagon, me hiding under a doll’s blanket, afraid of the thunder. I veritably tremble when I see that Landslide is ahead on the album. The song, Landslide, carries personal nostalgic value in my life and it is a nostalgic song about nostalgia. How can that all be? I’ve been reading too much Dr. Suess because this all seems entirely possible.
Nevertheless, this post is not about music. It is about Josh’s ear health.
So last Monday, Chris, Josh and I left our house at 6:30 am for Josh’s 8:30 am-awake MRI. I had prepared Josh for the MRI by having him watch a few videos on Youtube. You can find these videos on my Sensory Processing Disorder Pinterest page. It seemed that Josh was willing and able to sit for the MRI. We had completed all of the forms and had gone around and around with the nurse about the fact that Josh was not to be given any contrast for this exam. After a few phone calls, she finally believed me. Finally, we were walking into NASA’s control center (okay, that’s what it felt like outside the huge 3.0 MRI seen through the window), Chris in his track suit and me in my yoga gear, because these were the only non-metallic clothing we could find. Once we got in with the MRI technician and he read through our forms, he told us that he didn’t think Josh could have the MRI because of his titanium PORP. I told him I had verified with our ENT’s office that the PORP was indeed MRI safe. He told us that while it was definitely safe for a 1.5 strength MRI, it wasn’t for a 3.0 strength MRI. He shooed us out of the room to call the head radiologist.
We returned to the waiting area. Twenty minutes later, he found us and told us that the MRI was safe as long as Josh was perfectly still, but if he tried to sit up even slightly, the PORP could move. He clearly didn’t want to risk it. I had had my own misgivings about this same issue the week before and hence, had done extensive research in this regard–even so far as to look at the information pages provided by the manufacturer’s of PORPs. In spite of our ENT’s reassurances, I still feared the slightest shift of the PORP towards the inner ear–it could do loads of damage. The lab technician clearly was against going ahead with the MRI and told us he could have us talk to the CT scan technician about our concerns over radiation. It was still an hour until our back-up CT was scheduled (at 9:30 am) and so we agreed. We were shuttled into the CT scan room and she put Josh up on the CT machine, giving him a sticker to add to the inside of it. He seemed totally comfortable and I realized the CT technician had been told to just go ahead with the CT. In a way, it felt like the MRI technician had made the decision for us and I might have been irked, but instead felt relief. The CT tech told us that she was very certain she could quickly get the kind of picture of the temporal lobes that our ENT needed. And so, we just went ahead with the CT and, 30 seconds later, it was all over and we were leaving the hospital.
I have to admit, as easy as it was, it was a bit of a “let down.” After all of those months of research and worry, we ended up allowing Josh the radiation hit by having the originally ordered CT scan. Hence, the admittedly overused T.S. Eliot quote above. The upside of the CT scan was that it wasn’t at all scary or emotionally damaging for Josh. In the end, maybe that’s what most mattered. At least, that’s what I am going to believe because, at this point, there is nothing I can do about the radiation hit of this second of Josh’s CT scans. It is done.
We met with Josh’s ENT the following day to go over the results. It was a long 24 hours to wait for the results, but at least Chris and I didn’t have to go over to the clinic dressed like PE instructors. After an even longer half-hour wait for our ENT in the examining room, he came in and asked why we didn’t get an MRI. I explained to him the radiologist’s concerns. He said that those concerns were ridiculous, but he still looked it up on Wikipedia of all things. Wikipedia! He told us the next time he’d send us to a different hospital for an MRI. Thankfully, however, he got what he needed from the CT and, at least for the foreseeable future, there is no need for an MRI.
Our ENT showed us that both of Josh’s middle ears were completely filled with fluid and so was his left sinus cavity. What should have been all black (showing air) was all gray on the scan. He is hopeful that the fluid is the cause of Josh’s present decline in hearing. He also did not see any evidence of cholesteatoma. I take some comfort knowing that CT scans tend to provide more false positives (and MRI’s more false negatives) for cholesteatoma. At present, Josh is on a 20-day course of oral antibiotics to see if this will clear the fluid. We have another hearing test set for early June. I am hoping that the antibiotics clear the fluid. Josh has never been on oral antibiotics before, although he did have one full-spectrum antibiotic given intravenously in the ER when he was 2.5. I am not a huge fan of antibiotics for many reasons (hopefully a subject of a future post) but I do recognize that antibiotics still sometimes are necessary. If the antibiotics don’t work to clear the fluid, we’d be looking at PE tubes once again. I am very dubious of PE tubes, given that Josh’s ear canals are so small that our previous ENT never actually successfully placed the PE tube in his left ear and the right grommet, although successfully placed, ended up ruining Josh’s original ear drum. I would have a hard time accepting the potential destruction of Josh’s rebuilt right eardrum with another metal grommet. But we are not there yet. For now, “just antibiotics” beats surgery any day.
I am grateful. I am hopeful.