Surfer’s Ear Sux Volume 2: Hotel California

By Clay Wright

Photos

Re-cap: End of October 06 I got an ear infection that closed my ear canal up then burst my ear drum and due to surfer’s ear bone growth neither drops not ENT scrapers could get inside to treat it. After numerous ENT visits and rounds of antibiotics and 100$ bottles of 1/4 oz. drops I was still deaf in one ear and as infected as ever.

The pain, gross-factor, and loss of hearing are bad but when I find my drytop gaskets dry-rotting and realize how long it’s been since I paddled I knew action was required. So I booked a Southwest fare to LA, got a car, and headed north up highway 1. While not the most direct route, my ‘chaperone’ Tara and I thought some R n R would be the perfect way to start the trip. We sipped wines near Santa Barbara, took side-hikes to see the redwoods, sea lions, and watch the kiteboarders at Wadell Beach and just drank in the scenery along the winding road as well. Arriving in Santa Cruz, we set up shop at the Terrace Court Inn for what I knew would be a long week.

I am in Santa Cruz because Doctor Hetzler has a webpage devoted to surfer’s ear and has graciously answered my questions about what I was going through and provided E-mail feedback long after my Tennessee Doctors office was closed. He seems like the only outfit seriously prepared to fight these bone growths in a way in which returning to watersports as fast as possible is a priority. And he’s done 350 ears already with none of the pesky facial paralysis or head infection business I’ve been warned about. Meeting him was confidence inspiring. He is checking me in, taking blood pressure and all the things nurses usually do, as well as giving me a detailed rundown of what is about to happen. I am relaxed . . .

Her lips were moving and I could hear just a bit of her voice as the nice nurse held out a cup of the most delicious apple juice I’ve ever seen. As i sucked down the last drop I saw concern in her face, and read ‘NO! just small sips’ from her lips right before it hit me:
I hadn’t had fluids in 15 hours but I instantly wished I had passed on the juice anyway. You remember that time in college when the floor seemed the most comfortable place in the world till your stomach began turning itself inside out with gut-wrenching seizures …eventually clinching up so tight you thought you may pass out before your next breath? Now add lots of nurses and doctors watching it all in bright lights mouthing ‘this is normal’ between bowl changes as you begin to feel Shish-ki-bob skewers that have been carefully placed down both ears with all the accompanying swelling and bleeding and gauze you would imagine. Inner panic is how i can best describe waking up after having my ears chiseled. It’s not like there is that much pain, just that inability to hear creates a sense of isolation that compounds the many minor unpleasantries into a more personal attack.

Dr. Hetzler comes in and he’s not smiling and I realize it’s not just my sputtering that worries him. He’s trying to be very clear about this… something about infection, mastoid, perforation, and another surgery or two after a couple months … See you Friday.

”Are your ready to go home?" the nurse asks, but I just stare blankly and continue to throw up. What other answer could I give? An hour later my chaperone finally convinces me to climb into the wheelchair for the trip to the rental car and off to my motel by the sea. I don’t remember much else, except that the patch on my ear was finally kicking in to relax my stomach when I took the next Oxycodone and I retired from the hell I had woken to in hopes of awaking in a much happier, less thirsty place. The next days were spent blasting the TV, catching up on fluids, and trying to communicate with my lovely chaperone when between escape pills. Little victories like taking off the ear patch, learning to take half a pill every 2 hours to maintain a level of coherence without pain, and going outside to take a walk only to find the Pacific right outside the door. The week flies by (for me) and soon I’m getting the packing removed in Dr. Hetzler’s office while my chaperone takes surf lessons within sight of the hotel.

Dr. Hetzler is what you would ask for in a Doctor if the sky were the limit. He goes to work clearing my ears and right away i can hear like I haven’t in months. The effect is downright trippy, so many more things going on out there than I realized, but I’m trying to concentrate on my list of questions I’ve brought in when he starts into what sound like a well rehearsed monologue. All my carefully written questions have answers beside them when he is finished. He couldn’t repair the ear drum because the infection was active and needed to drain, and while he would put me on antibiotics and drops, he believed I would have to have wait 2 months and then have mastoid surgery to clean the bone of infection, and then follow that up a month later with ear drum repair. "It might just drain our over the next month and heal up on it’s own, but it’s not likely." This isn’t the happy ending I expected. I see my Spring and early summer paddling plans ripping apart like my gaskets. I don’t know what I will do. But it’s not his fault, and I’d better just get up and get moving. I arrive at the shore near the hotel and the first standing surfer I see is my chaperone, gliding across the bay to the cheers of those around her before hopping back into the ocean. Something good to think about – helping and watching others have fun – that will get me through this and I’ve got plenty of great candidates all around.

Clay