Lend Me Your Ear

So my wife, son and I flew across country last week, headed to California for a family wedding and then to catch up with dear friends. It was, for all of us, our first air travel since BTP (before the pandemic).

The first leg of the trip, to the home of the Arch, went swimmingly. The next, well let's just say my wife and son were not looking forward to our return flight to NJ. At least if I was with them.

About a year or so ago, one of my ears began to close whenever we were in a car and had elevation change of any measure. I don't mean a Mount Everest climb but more like the distance in the air of a Dechambeau drive.

I ended up at an ENT doc who cleaned my ear, pulled out a golf ball of wax and announced that there was nothing wrong inside my head (or maybe he left out the word wrong).

The problem persisted, but really only on these drives. I opened windows, even in the cold. For months, I even changed my route to avoid what I perceived to be the road that was my principal nemesis. Still, I now had a new and unwanted traveling companion.

In recent months, the issue seemed to abate, if not vanish. And thus, as I flew from St. Louis into the former home of Reggie Jackson, Vida Blue and Joe Rudi, my level of concern was less than if I was about to eat spicy food.

About half an hour before reaching our destination, we began our descent from the heavens. Immediately, the offending ear shut tighter than the mind of a right winger being asked to donate to the re-election campaign of Joe Biden.

And then it only got worse. The rest of the journey was kind of a blur for me. I am told I was clutching at my head and chest, as the pain kind of lightning bolted. And any noise that reached that ear seemed like it came while I was listening from the bottom of the ocean. For those sitting to my left and right, happy is not the adjective I would use to describe their mood. Nor mine.

Finally, the plane and the earth smooched. I wobbled to my feet and headed to baggage claim. In just a few minutes, I began to get crackling noises from inside my erstwhile enemy. Shortly thereafter I arose from the ocean floor. 

So I was mostly good to go, my trauma (if not that experienced by my family) largely in the rear view mirror.

I supposed a visit, or at least a call, to a doctor was in order before I took to the skies again on my trip home. I was hoping for a trick of the trade that would permit me to rise above the clouds and my worries. 

I have good friends who drove across the country last year. Their trip looked wonderful and I told them I would love to take that same journey some day. I began thinking I might now be asking them for the best places to stay along the way.

CONTINUED

I have never been a gum chewer. The taste always disappeared far too fast, and the jaw grew tired immediately thereafter, the act of chewing seeming to have no good purpose. But here I was chomping away like Joey Chestnut on July 4th. Hoping to avoid a repeat performance.

I was in touch with an ENT shortly after my arrival in California. The answer was to try to put a band-aid on this wound to get me across the country. As directed, I bought some Afrin, which I was to take for 2 days (no more) before getting back in the air.

The problem. Shortly before taking the first dose, I read the warnings on the bottle. Who ever thought an enlarged prostate was connected to the ear? But, anatomy is what it is. And my call and text to my urologist did not prove fruitful (in his defense, he is presently half a world away and, thankfully for him, out of the reach of a chronic worrier).

So, I took flight on a wing, a prayer, a single dose of Afrin, some chewing gum and a good amount of trepidation. Luck, it seemed was with me, as I was able to distract myself for most of the flight by watching the Yankees beat up on the Orioles (my son’s infinite capacity for understanding the intricacies of just about everything allowing me to capture this game on my phone). Then we began our descent. And so did I.

The truth is, it was not quite as rough as before. I tried to be a little more centered, a little less panicked (that is certainly contrary to my natural inclinations). I went through nearly a pack of gum, chewing as quickly on each piece as if I were typing at 200 words a minute. I swallowed, blew my nose, and generally did every maneuver short of standing on my head. My wife and son first tried to talk with me to keep me from a five alarm meltdown. Then they learned better, and left me to my own inadequate defenses.

In the end, I survived. It is now Monday morning at 8:08 AM. I should have been calling my local ENT at 8 to make an appointment, but my conversation with you is delaying me. So, I will have to bid adieu now, as I cannot tarry further.

For now, I am grounded. Well, not grounded in that sense. Hopefully, the doctor will clear my ears and me for takeoff. Until, then, my feet will remain firmly planted on the earth. Even if my brain is in perpetual free- fall.