Where have all the crazies gone?

As I've documented before, one of the things I love about New York is the crazies. They're not just tolerated here, they're celebrated. Perhaps you've heard of Naked Cowboy Man - the guy who hangs out (literally and figuratively) in Times Square with a guitar and some sh*% kickers. He's a mainstay on the tourist circuit. And of course we all have our local favorites.

I took this picture in the Meat Packing District a few weeks ago as I was strolling to get my haircut. It was not Halloween, by the way. Just folks doing their errands on a regular Saturday morning. No one batted an eye at this guy. (Granted, he may not be a bonafide crazy - he could just be a kids party entertainer trying to make a buck. I still love that he doesn't stand out a bit on 13th street.)

I don't know what it is about the crazies that I love. There is something so defiantly independent about some of them. Just living their life out loud, not at all caring what the rest of us think. Highly evolved, really. (Remember, I'm a girl who gets upset if I think people on the subway mistake my commuting shoes for the actual shoes I plan to wear with that outfit.)

Speaking of the subway, it offers some of the best freak watching in the city. I am sad to say, my half deafness has put a hindrance on my enjoyment in this area. I don't know if this will go away over time or not, but loud and piercing noises are particularly bothersome to me now. Aside from the cranial discomfort, I'm also really paranoid about exposing my only hearing ear to decibles that could be loud enough to cause damage. Gotta protect what little I have left!

So I ride the subway with an earplug in my good ear. It muffles out the screeching of metal wheels on the tracks as we pull into or out of stations and makes the ride more bearable. But it has the unpleasant side effect of blocking out most of the psychotic ramblings one is normally treated to while riding the A train.

Yesterday I knew I was missing a good one. There was a guy sitting amongst the tired morning commuters and he could have blended right in. No tattered clothing, no stuffed shopping bags, just a normal looking guy. Totally average, except that he was shouting out his deeply pondered life philosophy at the absolute top of his lungs to a car full of unphased people immersed in the The Post - none of whom paid him any mind. I could hear enough through my earplug to know he was preaching about Starbucks. Something about a crazy person belting out wisdom through the symbolism of a yuppie icon such as Starbucks made me yearn for my un-handicapped eavesdropping days.

Mind you, I don't love ALL the crazies. Some of them are scary. Or smelly. Or both. But Starbucks man was ok by me...

Quotable?

Sorry for falling off the radar for a while. Last week was busy. But in the middle of it, I did experience a pleasant acknowledgment of the fact that my eavesdropping days are not over. It was a sweet reminder of a favorite hobby I thought was only in my past.

I'm a shameless eavesdropper. I will listen in rapt attention to any conversation happening within earshot. It doesn't have to be interesting. I once missed my subway stop because I was listening to two women talk about their daughters who were taking clarinet lessons. From the same teacher as it turns out. Imagine that. The next stop didn't have an overpass so I had to exit the station, walk across the avenue and pay again to re-enter on the uptown side. But at least I knew clarinet lessons were every Wednesday at 4:30.

Since the surgery, I can't discern words against any kind of background noise. My eavesdropping skills have been compromised to the point that I have been forced to mind my own business in public spaces for the past 6 months.

So imagine the depths of my vicarious thrill while waiting for friends in the (quiet) waiting area of a restaurant last week as I slowly discovered I was overhearing a conversation between the hostess and a waiter who'd been hanging around the hostess station to flirt:

Waiter: "Smell you later"
Hostess: "Hey, who was the first person to say that?:
Waiter: "I don't know."
Hostess: "Was it Urkel? That sounds like something Urkel would say. [repeat in an Urkel voice] Smell you later !"
Waiter: "I think it was Screech."

Thank God I didn't miss that one.

What a difference 3 months and 27 days makes

Last night I met Terence after work at a casual, neighborhoody restaurant we love on the Upper West Side. (Celeste. 84th and Amsterdam. Great food, great prices. Word to the wise: cash only.)

I met Terry on the sidewalk and we walked in together. It wasn't until we were led through the dining room and I was seated that it suddenly hit me like a ton of bricks. This is the restaurant we went to the night before my surgery, and I hadn't been back since. Ironically, last night we were seated at the table right next to the one we were at that night which is probably what triggered the realization as I sidled into the chair.

I remember being very quiet that night, and somewhat nervous, of course - but more eager to simply get it over with. It was right after we finished our bufala frita (fried cheese. what else do you think I would eat the night before brain surgery?) when Terry called and checked the home machine. There was a message from the hospital informing me my report time had been changed from 6 am until noon. Ugh. I don't think I spoke for the rest of the meal. 6 am is one thing. You just get up and go. It's over before you're even really awake. For the life of me, I couldn't figure out how I was going to get through those extra 6 hours.

As though the karma gods knew where I was last night, they sent me a welcome sign of progress: the waiter seemed to notice that I was turning my head sideways to hear him read the specials. Without any prompt from me, for the rest of the meal he approached on the other side although to do so meant a more cramped place to wedge himself into. I tipped him extremely well.

Hamptons Hobnobbing

We spent the weekend at the home of a gracious friend who lives in East Hampton year round, and we had a simply delightful weekend. But wow. Every time I go out there, I think it can't get more crowded and then it does.

Our Dapper Host

Over the course of my life, I have spent a lot of time out on the South Fork of Long Island. It has changed enormously since my first trips to Montauk in the 70s, but as overrun as it's become, a lot of what I love about Eastern Long Island is still evident. But it's July, so I had to look very hard.

Spending time out there during the summer is like being in a movie. Everything is so completely over the top. I know that I am lucky, and I never feel poor. However, there is nothing like walking through East Hampton to remind me that I am not rich. The obsession with and outward display of wealth is unrelenting. Manhattan has it's share of wealthy folks to be sure. But one could stand next to a katrillionaire in line at Fairway and never know it. In the Hamptons, making sure everyone knows it has become a feverish preoccupation.

Despite the overhead whirring of private jets and helicopters, it was a peaceful weekend with beautiful weather, savory food and great company. For two days and two nights, life was good.

Weekend highs:

1. Using my igo charger in the car for the first time. Unlimited laptop use. Amazing. I used the whole trip out to organize photo folders and the whole trip home to work on tournament stuff and start writing this post. We could have driven to Florida and I would never have run out of battery power.
   
   
2. Discovery of Pimm's and tonic. How did I make it to 36 without ever trying this perky little beverage? Perfect for a girl who detests sweet cocktails. This could be a replacement for the vodka gimlets I've grown a little tired of. Try it with some lime.
   
   
3. Drinks at the AmHo. Terry and I rented a house in Sag Harbor for many years with a great group of friends. Late night at the bar of The American Hotel was a standard. We went Saturday night and it felt just like old times. It's a quirky spot that always guarantees amusing conversations with characters of all types. We caught up with some old acquaintances and met some delightful new ones. My favorite part of the evening was the precocious beagle stealthily mingling at ankle level. I have no idea to whom he belonged, but he fit right in.
   
   
4. Paying a visit to the beach where Terry and I got engaged (at sunset 9 years ago in August. Holy cow, I’m old.)
   
   
   
   
5. Celebrity sightings: we tried hard to stay out of the fray, so we didn’t have many. Just Keith Hernandez in Java Nation on Saturday morning.

Weekend lows:

1. Feeling completely deaf while trying to have a conversation with a stranger at a cocktail party. We went to a small gallery opening on Saturday night. It was a really nice event with two of my favorite things: wine and cheese. So the gallery owner flits over to us at one point and gushes, “Oh, I want you to meet Tony Curanaj [one of the artists being shown].” She introduced him and then scurried off. So I found myself in exactly the kind of situation in which I cannot hear anything. The room was pretty crowded, so there was lots of noise and the floors were wood. I had no ability to discern any words at all without violating personal space norms in a really uncomfortable way. Asking Tony to repeat would have been futile. So I just smiled and nodded. Later Terry explained what the conversation we were having was about. As a fellow hearing impaired commenter recently quipped, I know that one of these days I am going to unwittingly agree to help someone rob a bank. I just know I’ll be pulled over driving the getaway car, and I’ll have thought I was aiding in a Starbucks run.
   
   
2. Not really a low exactly, because I didn’t care, but I endured some shabby (but ultimately amusing) treatment at one point in the evening at the AmHo. Two cougars on the prowl spied our host and were clearly interested. Since I was standing next to him, I would need to be disposed of. In one of the most adept yet shockingly rude social maneuvers I have ever seen, I suddenly found myself sandwiched up against a wall with my nose less than three inches from the center of one of the cougar’s backs. The speed with which this happened was impressive, and it was masterful in its subtlety. A casual on-looker would never have assumed this as a deliberate gesture and would have attributed the whole thing to the normal jostling that happens in a crowded bar. I knew better, but obliged by finding a less crowded perch. Sorry, ladies. He’s taken anyway. By a woman with better manners, I might add.
   
   
3. Visiting our old summer house and being shocked at the state it was in. This was truly sad. I’ve rented many summer houses in a few Hamptons spots. But the one that I really think of as “my old summer house” is the one we rented for years in North Haven (just outside Sag Harbor). We had the perfect group of friends in that house with wonderful chemistry all around. The historic house had belonged to a whaling captain who sailed out of Sag Harbor. In fact, the creaky pile of planks is haunted by the ghost of Captain Corwin himself. I’m serious about this – Terry encountered the old spook while reading in the parlor one evening. Others had similar experiences over the several years we rented this house and adjoining cottage. Much fun was had, despite the uninvited guests. We had many feasts with excesses of wine at a dining table that could seat well over a dozen (and we always pushed the limit). We solved countless Sunday Times crosswords around the oversized island in the kitchen while gossiping about the happenings of the night before. I made a lot of life-long friends in that house. So we were all very sad when we had to stop renting it because the owner was selling. (Interestingly, it was sold to Spalding Gray who infamously committed suicide a few summers ago by jumping off the Staten Island Ferry.) On Saturday afternoon Terry and I decided to drive by and see how the old homestead was doing. I imagined it was going to look great. I guess I assumed it must have been sold again after the Gray tragedy and that since it had been bought and sold twice now, some renovation and TLC must have been applied. Well, when we turned the corner we were shocked. The house is in complete disrepair. The grounds are completely overgrown with weeds. The cottage in the back looks like it is no longer habitable. There was literally an arm chair out on the side yard and a clothesline in the back with tattered looking clothes. I don’t know what is going on there, but it looks like there are some hill-billies renting the place, and there is obviously no one managing the upkeep. So sad.

A stolen glance at a house gone to seed

In the end, the lows were far surpassed by the highs, and it was an extremely successful weekend overall. Thanks, JB! We're coming back soon...

Hey, trainwreck

I couldn't stand the thought of going out in the heat on Sunday, so I spent a large part of the day doing paperwork for my upcoming charity tournament in front of the TV. One of the ridiculous things I watched: an HOUR AND A HALF of "Hey, Paula". This show is documenting the trainwreck that is Paula Abdul, and it is pure, vapid entertainment. Perfect summertime drivel.

Mindless pursuit aside, I have to acknowledge the show may have held my attention due to some recent personal experiences. It turns out, I can relate to Paula on an unexpected level. I have been acutely aware and increasingly amused by the fact that some of the strangers I interact with nowadays think I'm drunk. I am not being facetious.

I am fueling this perception with two behaviors:

1. I don't always answer questions appropriately. "Miss, what size would you like?" "Yes, please." "Would you like to hear our specials?" "I'm fine, thank you. How are you?" After a few missteps, the clerk/waiter/salesgirl suspects I have a mental problem.
   


2. After laying the groundwork for the insanity defense, I then turn to walk away from the counter, table, etc., and inevitably the wobble kicks in. A barely perceptible stumble that would go unnoticed if red flags had not already been raised.
   

I can see it in their faces. A mix of sympathy and amusement. Schadenfreude, perhaps. They're thinking, "This poor girl has been hitting the bottle and it's only 9:15 in the morning. It is going to take more than a grande latte to get her to quitting time."

Paula has found similar accusations hurtful. I find it amusing. Maybe I can do a reality show and Bravo can pay me a million dollars to follow me around for a couple of weeks?

In case you missed it, here's a link to Paula's promotional interview for this season's Idol. Trainwreck.

I ordered this?

I went to Fatty Crab for dinner with Terry the other night. It's a Meat Packing District place, so of course, our waiter was an out-of-work-actor-Ashton-Kutcher-wannabe with no evident knack for hospitality services, and the music was too loud (I sound like I'm 107 years old).

Ashton told us the specials and I could only hear every other word of his description of the appetizer du jour. From what I did hear, I knew it involved pork and beef and some manner of sauce. Fatty Crab being an Asian place (think an updated version of the old Saigon Grill), I'm envisioning an approximation of satay. I say, "Sounds good."

Do you know what the appetizer was? Mini hamburgers. We're in an Asian fusion place and I order mini hamburgers. Perfect.

I need to take a lip reading course. Stat.

(PS: I got in a debate with Terence on the way home about whether the mini hamburgers were off-Brand or not. I say yes, although I acknowledge the hipsters that frequent the place would buy them by the dozen at 2 am. Still, I ask you, would you expect mini hamburgers to go along with this menu? I'm just saying.)

Happy summer solstice (and three month anniversary)

I took an extensive (and I'm sure my insurance company will soon find out, expensive) hearing test earlier in the week and found out that I'm half deaf. Go figure. The audiologist, God bless her cotton socks, was obviously upset that she had to confirm this news for me. It was so sweet. I'm sure she's used to delivery of such information being perceived as a devastating blow, but I assured her I had known for months. They told me in the OR and it's been confirmed with every experience since.

During the hearing test, I experienced the strange phenomenon that would eventually allow that "snap" device to work. Small tone-emitting tubes were inserted directly into my ear canal. While testing my right (deaf) ear, they had to pipe static noises into my left ear to "distract" it from hearing the tones on the side they were trying to measure. I guess I was either hearing the noise through the inside of my head, or the sound was making my bone vibrate so I could hear the reverberation. Next they put a device against the bone at the base of my head behind my deaf ear and deliberately tested my "bone resonance". When they vibrated that half-the-size-of-a-dime thing at different frequencies, I could hear varying tones in the (hearing) ear on the other side. Bizarre. No sign of XM Satellite in this initial test.

Once I get a little more into the swing of things, I will test out a trial version of the snap. I can wear a transmitter on a headband of sorts for a couple of days to experience what I would hear. If it seems worth it to me, then I could go for the more permanent version ala skull snap. My neurotologist would perform the surgery in the same hospital where I had my tumor removed - although the recovery is no big deal. It's not likely that I would even be admitted to the hospital, and I think I'd be back to a normal routine within days.

My doctor said that some neurosurgeons/neurotologists actually go ahead and insert the anchor for the snap thing during the initial tumor resection surgery. He doesn't like to do that for two reasons:
1. he doesn't believe it's ethical in a case like mine because I have to make an informed decision and consent to the surgery once I know I'm deaf. Why charge the insurance company for something I might not want?
2. the risk of brain infection is SO high (visual: my doctor wildly waving his arms for dramatic effect) in acoustic neuroma patients that he doesn't like to throw any additional complications into the mix. Ok, reason #2 gave me pause. I was certainly warned of the risks, but it was never underscored with such flair (or it's possible I was just denying the drama). Easier to hear it expressed that way when you're looking through the rear view mirror, I suppose.

My doc thinks I'm a great candidate for the snap and seems to be encouraging that route. For an older, perhaps retired individual it may not be worth it, he advised. But for a "high functioning person like you, it could make a big difference." He thinks I'm high functioning. He hasn't seen this blog.

Before my appointment I was (only slightly) worried because I've noticed a bit of a decline over the past three weeks or so. Doc Roland confirmed that's all normal as nerves regenerate (and cause pain) and as I am more active. I guess I was holding three months as some magic milestone that would abruptly bring the end of all balance and pain issues. Not so much. To alleviate frustration, I just think back to a month ago and remember that I really have made amazing progress.

I also saw a dermatologist this week to find out if there is anything he can do about a bald spot I now have gracing my hairline. It's barely noticeable, but it drives me crazy. It resulted from pressure wounds caused by too-tight post surgical head dressings (mmmm. cozy.). He said, well, I can give you a cortisone shot into your scalp and we'll see if that works. I thought, "Well, if your needle is smaller than a bone saw, I've had worse. Bring it on."

To make a long story short out of all these doc appointments, I have been cleared to go back to work tomorrow. I'm really happy to think of going back to my normal life. I'm sure I'll find it a little depressing at first as I notice all the ways it's not the same, but I will also be more grateful than ever for the small pleasures like Starbucks everywhere I turn and easy access to the bacon-turkey-cheddar melt at Cosi.

Onward...

Hearing nothing vs. hearing nothing

I had back to back experiences yesterday that highlighted the ying and yang of my hearing issues just perfectly.

1. Hearing nothing

I trekked out to RadioShack to purchase my new favorite items. When the sales associate stepped over to his computer to help figure out which igo tips I would need, he fell on my deaf side. So I didn't hear him while he repeated with increasing volume, "Excuse me, miss, which Blackberry do you have? Miss? Excuse me, Miss? Hello? Ma'am?" Other customers had begun to stare by the time I heard him. By now, of course, he already thinks I'm some crazy, vacant ditz who, in fact, may even be drunk. I didn't help matters when I emphatically told him how upset I was by the complicated tangle of chargers that was slowly taking over the apartment. He laughed and said, "Um, you're getting a little red as you're talking about it. Are you ok? You're kind of scary right now." (Only my husband understands the depth of my desperate need for obsessive organization.)

2. Hearing nothing

On my way home I passed a cute clothing store. Since I'm going back to work late next week (assuming the docs clear me during my appointments), I felt justified in indulging in a little retail therapy. A sales girl was helping me collect the items I wanted to try on and hung them in a dressing room for me while I shopped. She hovered (at an appropriate distance) while I scanned the racks. There was some pretty loud music playing in the store, and the sounds were definitely swirling in my head. On at least a dozen occasions, I could swear that sales girl was speaking to me. She wasn't. Nonetheless, I kept abruptly swinging around and staring intently at her mouth. I startled her more than once, and that "appropriate distance" kept getting more and more, shall we say, appropriate.

If the girl in the boutique knows the guy at RadioShack, I will most definitely be banned from both stores. I laughed all the way home while listening to my now stereo to mono nano.

Here's a pic of the top I bought (I'm thinking leggings and ballet flats):

A better life through RadioShack

Normally Terence is the gadget head in this household, but these are my two new favorite things:


Check out the thing that makes all the sound come through one ear piece instead of two on my nano






Because of this amazing thing, I can throw out the shopping bag of chargers currently making me crazy in my post surgical "nesting" mode. Check it out.

Huh?

Yesterday's outing was a mani/pedi at the cheapo place in the hood. I didn't go with my usual indulgence at Sava because I know I will be getting another one next week with some friends. Why pay extra for quality when I will be indulging again before I need another round?

Anyway, because this is the cheapo place, it's not as quiet as my usual zen-like cappuccino-serving sanctuary. This is an air-conditioning unit above the door kind of place. The loudness induced one of those, "Oh, right. I'm kind of deaf" moments.

I used to find myself in a situation that I thought was common, but now that I understand I've been slightly hearing impaired for a while, I'm not so sure. You know when you ask someone to repeat themselves and you still don't understand? Typically I ask one more time. After that it's just embarrassing, so I act like I know what was said and offer some vague and non-committal gesture. I'm sure I've unwittingly put myself in some Seinfeldian puffy-shirt situations.

So here I am in the cheapo salon, and the pedicurist is saying something to me. But with all that ambient noise, damn if I could hear her. I saw the lips moving - but literally heard no sound. And she kept looking away during her sentence to check the (noisy) swirling water at the base of the pedi chair. Here was the problem. She was clearly asking me a question, and was awaiting an answer. No answer - no pedi. I asked her to repeat herself no less than five times. I kid you not. I kept moving my good ear closer and closer to her until she probably thought I was going to sit on her lap.

Aaaghh! I'm going to have to get better at this. I see a lip reading course in my future. In the meantime, don't be surprised if I'm wearing a pirate shirt the next time you see me.

Five Week Status Report

The Five Week Status Report would look a lot like the Four Week Status Report. Instead of more boring details about exactly how many city blocks I can walk now, I thought I'd use this week's post to provide more boring details about this whole single sided hearing/single sided deafness business (I've seen it referred to both ways - but SSD seems more common. The glass half full/half empty debate rages on). A lot of you have expressed curiosity, so here's what I know so far.

As it turns out, SSD is not really that uncommon. In fact, many of you have already told me about other people you know personally who are deaf on one side. In the US, about 60,000 people per year become afflicted. It can have many causes such as viral infections, Meniere’s disease, trauma, measles, chicken pox or, as in my case, through surgical intervention.

The reality of being deaf on one side is very different from what I imagined it would be. I thought I would still hear everything, but maybe just a little lower on the old volume. The issues are a bit more complex.

First of all, there is a range of sound that occurs on my right side that I simply can't hear due to a phenomenon called the "head shadow effect." A creepy name. A friend articulated it better: "Oh, it's like an eclipse." Exactly. My head has become an object that literally blocks certain sound waves that originate on my deaf side from ever being perceived by my hearing side. Surgery has made me more obtuse than ever.

Secondly, the world has become a giant ventriloquist act to me. I have a lot of trouble determining the location from which a noise originates. If someone drops a book across the room on my right, I may reflexively turn to my left. I've become like a crazy person who constantly cocks their head to imagined noises saying, "Did you hear that?!" I keep thinking birds chirping outside my window are mice inside the apartment. Crazy person.

I also have a lot of trouble with multiple noise input. First of all, it just makes my head pound. I think that's a short term issue. But the likely long term effect is that I can't "prioritize." So if the TV is on and someone is speaking to me at the same time, I can't hear what they're saying. I am not able to prioritize the noise that I want to hear from another noise that I want to tune out. Conversations in a restaurant, for example, would be very difficult. Giant cacophony. (cute name for a cafe. no?) Note to those with knowledge of broadcast production: think of it as a completely fokakta mix with zero ability for adjustment.

According to all the depressing literature, people with SSD can experience issues with things like "crossing the street, bicycling or driving a car and may also have problems in group situations like business meetings, restaurants or cocktail parties." So as long as I always cross with the light and am satisfied with drinking alone, I'll be fine. In other words, my life won't change ;)

Time will tell how I cope with these issues and how debilitating they are in my particular case. If it seems advantageous, there are some remedies available to me thanks to modern technology. This is where that snap comes in. As mentioned in some previous posts, there is a device called a Baha that could be placed on my deaf side behind the ear via a snap implanted in the skull. It transfers sound through bone conduction, stimulating the cochlea in the normal hearing ear. Click this link to see an animated diagram that helps visualize this phenomenon:

http://www.entific.com/directBoneConduction.asp

(A quick side note. This diagram helps clear up another point a lot of people have found confusing. When you look at this, it's a little easier to understand why they had to cut through two bones to remove my tumor. This diagram is a cross section from the rear perspective. Those are the backs of someone's ears. First they cut a flap in the back of my skull, which is not shown in the picture. Then they moved my brain stem over revealing the skull base in the middle of my head. Then they sawed into that skull base to get inside the canal that houses my auditory nerve. My tumor had already bulbed out into my cranium, but they had to remove it from the source so as not to trash all the other nerves that run through that canal.)

The Baha device itself is wireless and apparently they are working on an updated model that would be Bluetooth enabled. I am 100% not kidding - I'd be able to pipe in my ipod or the TV directly to my head. I'm looking into whether I'd be able to host conference calls.

So let's just get to the source of all the curiosity. The snap. I mean, would I really have a snap on my head!? It sounds like a science fiction novel. Well, seeing is believing. Are you ready for a picture of the snap? I don't know if you're ready. I don't know if any of us could ever be ready, but here it is:



I will be hosting a Bluetooth enabled conference call in the future. The topic: Peripheral Snap Accessory Brainstorm Session/Things That Would Be Useful to Have Snapped To My Head. You'll all be invited and I'll send call in details. In the meantime, here are some thought starters:

• A cupholder
• A GPS system
• An Amex Xpress Pay - I can just swipe my head for payment
• A wrap around rear view mirror
• A head dust ruffle (would require another snap on my hearing side, but could add flair to drab outfits)
• A badge/ID holder - similar to Amex Xpress pay, head swipe for entry
• A bottle opener

I'm also going to look into whether I can use this for future face lifts. I could just have the bags under my eyes snapped back.

Other thoughts welcome.

Easter Humor for the Hearing Impaired

Couldn't resist. (Thanks, Tara)

Two Week Status Report

I'm celebrating my two week anniversary today, and a lot of you are asking how I'm doing. So it seems like a good time to give an update on my progress.

The good:
Let's start with the positive. I am feeling so much better than I thought I would at this point in the game, and every day comes with new progress.

• I can be left alone.
• I can walk unassisted as long as I'm going straight and am in an uncrowded place. I have walked all over this neighborhood and through the park with no problem at all.
  
• I can open my jaw all the way now and no longer have pain chewing. Over and over again I have proven there is almost nothing I can't eat.
• I can sleep through a whole night without getting up for meds.
• Talking on the phone has gotten easier as long as there is no other background noise and my headache isn't too bad.
  
• I can have visitors.
  
• I don't sleep all day anymore.
• I can read.
• I have gone up and down the stairs in my apartment (slowly, but without incident). This totally freaked my mother out.
• The incision area on my stomach doesn't hurt at all anymore - it's totally fine.
• My headaches are less intense and less constant.
• I am completely out of the Cerebro-Spinal Fluid leak danger zone.
  

The bad:
Not everything is great yet. In fact, the idea that I can feel so much better, but still have such a long way to go is extremely frustrating. The remaining issues are the ones that will simply take time, and this is where my patience is being challenged.

• The balance thing is the biggest problem I have right now. This is a hard one to describe. The best word I've come up with to describe how my head feels is "swimmy," although I know this is not very illuminating. If you've ever seen one of those dome-shaped marine compasses that floats in liquid, that's kind of how my head feels. I don't instantly have my bearing when I move my head. It takes a minute for it to settle in before I know "where I am". This has resulted in a Frankenstein-like gate as I have to keep my head very still and straight while I walk. It freaks people out. Also, if I do move my head too quickly as I'm walking (or even sometimes while I'm standing still), then I lose my balance. I haven't actually fallen yet, but I've had a few stumbles.
  
• Because the balance thing is an issue, I have trouble in public places. You don't realize how much you are constantly readjusting your position in response to unforseen stimulus. If I'm walking on the sidewalk and someone turns the corner into my path, I am in trouble. If someone walks too close to me, I have a real tough time getting out of their way or even adjusting to maintain the normal "personal space" bubble as one constantly does without even realizing it. This will just take time.
• Although it's getting much better, I still hear noises inside my head. (So what do I want - a medal? Now I am now just like every other New Yorker!)
• The sensory issues are very bizarre. I have a lot of trouble with multiple noise inputs. Having the dishwasher and the TV on at the same time is just not doable. I can't have a conversation if there is background noise. And something I didn't expect - even the other four senses can give me overload trouble. Sunlight, traffic noise and wind against my face all at the same time can be enough to make my head throb :(
  
• Anyone who has had surgery of any kind will relate to this one: the nerve endings all around the surgical site are damaged. They will regenerate over the next 12 weeks, but in the meantime, one half of my head feels "dead". It's an uncomfortable and unsettling sensation to say the least.
  
• Unfortunately, it's not completely dead, because I also still have some swelling, pain and sensitivity on that side. (I mean, what do I expect? They sawed through my skull.)
  
• Believe it or not, my right arm is still purple and bruised from some of my IVs, so I don't have full mobility of my right hand yet. The left one is fine.
  
• The deafness sucks. I don't know what else to say about this one. In the grand scheme of things that can go wrong, this is such a small problem. I know that. And I will get used to it over time. But right now it makes me feel handicapped and I'm bummed about it. I have friends battling much more serious maladies, so it feels like a trivial thing to complain about. My friend's mother said the smartest thing to me about this when I was talking about this possibility before my surgery. I said the same thing - oh, this is such a small thing. People deal with much worse. And she basically said, "Oh, blah, blah, blah. When it's your hang nail, it really hurts." That's perfect.
  

The ugly:
My hair has truly never looked worse. On one-side it is an out of control mullet ala Patrick Swayze in "Next of Kin". On the other side, it is like a cat with a bad skin disease. I have started blow-drying it recently, and I'm really not sure what my point is here. Like rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic. Oh, and I got a pressure wound from the head dressing right smack on my forehead, so that looks really good too. (My bandages were too tight for the first 24 hours. So tight that I got wounds on my head that had to be treated like burns. Nothing like wrapping your head in a vice grip after brain surgery to soothe that headache away.)

I really am trying to be patient. I have to remind myself that only a little more than a week ago, it was so hard to move from a bed to a chair six inches away that I cried (not from pain, but just because I was scared at how hard it was). Now, if you saw me sitting here, you'd never even know I had brain surgery unless I told you (which I instantly would because I wouldn't want anyone to think this hair style was deliberate.)

So in sum, I'm doing GREAT. Much better than I have any right to at only two weeks out. I'm just not going to be instantly back to normal, and the rest will take time. From the nature of this blog, you can plainly see I have plenty of time.

Untethered

I went back to the hospital today for my post-surgical consult visit. It was very strange walking back into that place. I admit - I sort of felt like there should be a VIP entrance for brain surgery alums. Special parking? Velvet ropes? Volunteers telling me how much I rock? A small marching band - or at least a wind quartet? Come on, people! Work with me here,- I just had my head drilled open for #$%@'s sake!

Anyway - the sutures are out of both my head and abdomen. So that's good news. I also had a very interesting conversation with the Doc about the state of my hearing. It turns out there is a much more optimistic way to refer to being half deaf: single-sided hearing. How glass-half-full.

Apparently there is a bone-anchored hearing device that I will need to begin researching now that hearing loss is a reality. I had begun talking to some of you about that before - it will provide unending amusement for peripheral accessory possibilities. If I pursue it, I would literally have a snap embedded in my head onto which I can attach my own blue-tooth enabled hearing device to toss sound to my "good ear". I kid you not. Apparently, I could use my nano with no wires directly into my head. My friend Steve had long ago inquired whether I would be XM Satellite enabled, and I'm looking into this. I'm thinking this could lead to good party tricks (also, I would never again be mistaken about when baseball season starts).

I had a suture-free lunch at a restaurant across the street from the hospital (first public meal). I went in my pajamas - it was dark. They didn't care.

xo