Me and My Plastic Surgeon

A few weeks ago, I was on a plane to San Francisco, half dozing while I listened to my iPod and wondering why on earth I'd needed to get up at 4am if my plane hadn't actually left the airport until 8:30am (it was something to do with the crew needing to push the snooze button a few more times because they hadn't got the Required Amount Of Sleep the night before and oooh, that is such a good one, I'm going to use that next time I'm late for work, except my Required Amount of Sleep is 12 hours and I don't fly planes) when I reached up to adjust my earphone, and MY EAR FELL APART IN MY HAND.

Yes! It did! It fell apart in my hand! (I'm sorry, I hope you weren't eating when you read that. Though if it makes you feel any better, there wasn't any blood. Except now I've made you think about blood when you're eating and I'm sorry for that too.)

I turned to Sean and said "hey, does my ear look---" and he said "OH MY GOD" and then threw up in his mouth a little, and then he said "um, you might want to look in the mirror." So I rooted around in my hand luggage and found something that had a mirror on it, and this is what I saw:

And it totally put a damper on my weekend in San Francisco, because no matter how romantic and pretty San Francisco is, how are YOU supposed to feel romantic and pretty with an ear like that? You just can't, can you?

So when I got back to Charleston, I put off making an appointment with a doctor who could sew it back up because while I know they're doctors and THEY'VE SEEN IT ALL BEFORE, what if they hadn't seen THIS? And what if they had to cut my whole ear off and I'd spend the rest of my life looking like a pirate because I could only wear one earring?

And then after a week, my friend Elle became so grossed out by the whole thing that she decided she was going to make me an appointment herself, so she called her plastic surgeon (I know! How organized! She has a plastic surgeon and I don't even have a GP!) and got them to fit me in for a consultation. So yesterday I went for my appointment, and I had to fill in this two thousand page questionnaire that took longer to answer than the Chaucer exam in my final year of university, and after all the questions about insurance and operations and allergies, there was one that said "what is your bra size?"

AND I ANSWERED IT! Because he was a doctor! And maybe he needed to know! But now that it's a day later and I'm thinking about it, isn't that totally pervy? It's not like I was getting a boob job! Why would knowing my bra size help him decide what to do about my ear?

So I paid $100 to sit opposite him in his office for five minutes and have him draw my ear on a cocktail napkin, then tell me he could sew it up for another $300, and then I left. And then I thought about how if I had $300 to spare, I would certainly HAVE NICER SHOES, and I wondered if I had any friends who I could persuade to do it for $20 with one of those hotel sewing kits and a couple of shots of whiskey.

And the best part of the whole visit was this: when I left the office, I saw that they had a bowl of Halloween candy on the table and when I put my hand in to pull out my $100 piece of candy, I came back with a GUMMY EAR! It was just like a gummy bear or a gummy worm or, you know, those weird gummy hamburgers, but it was an ear! And upon closer inspection, I saw that the candy bowl was FULL of gummy severed body parts, in honor of Halloween (I hope.)

And as I walked back to my car, chewing my gummy ear and musing about how surreal it all was, I pondered the fact that MAYBE having a bowl full of severed body parts in your waiting room when you're in the business of plastic surgery is perhaps not the BEST impression to make on your patients. Still, I suppose it could have been worse. I could have reached my hand into the candy jar and pulled out a boob.

Andrew, I'm sitting
Oct 21, 2005

When I was flying...

As luck would have it I was once one of those airline employees who kept hitting his snooze button. As for the hardly working folks who manned your flight, it’s not that they didn’t feel like getting to work on time—they probably wanted to go home as badly as you did—it’s that the FAA and their unions have this stupid rule that people flying planes (and handing out drinks and pretzels) on those planes need at least 12 hours “rest” after one work day is over before they can fly again. Some think of it as a communist plot against you arriving home on time. Others view it as a safety matter, though really, it’s not like airline pilots really do all that much but sit up front and watch pornographic DVDs on their laptops while the plane flies itself.

I am sorry to hear about your ear, though I do understand the pirate look is coming back, so even if you can’t come up with the money, you’ll be okay.

Now I’m off to find a lemon.

Oct 22, 2005

I really really WANT to believe that somewhere in that bowl of severed body parts there were some boobs.

And I REALLY want to borrow the pair that you have on your desk.

Oct 22, 2005

Holy shit! So what ... I mean, what happened to make that happen? Did the plastic surgeon mention that, or did he proceed straight to the 300 bucks? Why with the falling apart, was the ear? I've got ears myself, is why I mention it.

Oct 22, 2005

Finally you and Michael Jackson have something in common.

Oct 22, 2005

While I feel compelled to respond to your blog, I am rendered speechless.

OK, I have a couple of questions:

Did your ear FEEL strange that morning before it came off in your hand?
Any reasons as to WHY this happened?

Nothing But Bonfires
Oct 22, 2005

Susan: We can work out some sort of Official Boob Plan, whereby you e-mail me a week in advance of when you need to borrow the boobs, and I'll mail them to you.

Briantologist: The story I'm going with is SHARKBITE, though the official one is wearing dangly earrings too often. You might want to stay away from both, just to be safe.

Misfithausfrau: No, no, it didn't come off in my hand! Though actually I could see how it looks like that in the picture, like I'm HOLDING my ear! The lobe just ripped. What happened you see, was that I came across this large shark.....

Oct 22, 2005

Upon further inspection of the above photo, I noticed the small little shark nibble on your ear. Apparently I need to change my name to BlindHausfrau or LackingReadingComprehensionHausfrau. You choose.

Oct 24, 2005

The Official Boob Plan is a go--Hawt Girl needs some cleavage.

(By the way, you are so very funny and you write so very well. So write more, now, to entertain me. Go--right now.)

Oct 24, 2005

So...there was no blood or pain or anything? The ear had just been preparing for this split and had already closed up on either side before the middle disentegrated? It looks like a cloven hoof, which proves my theory that you are the spawn of Satan for introducing me to V and Whole Foods cheese. However, in light of your chocolate HobNob initiative, I believe you have gotten out of about a millenia of purgatory. Had your earring hole gotten really loooong beforehand? That's what happened to my mom's ear, but she got it stitched back up well before she went Freak Ear. So, in summary, BLEH! BLEH BLEH! (shudder) THE HORROR!!!!
Kiss, Jemima

Russ Parton
Oct 28, 2005

Eh-up lass, with you losing the old mole it's like you've swapped one distinguishing mark for another. Are you getting it fixed then? And is the reason why you don't mention the in the blog anything to do with Gertrude Stein's theory of omission? Say it is! Quite tasteful around here, you should check out Rav's blog, it's Quite a blast. Hey, maybe you could get a graffiti wall up in here too?

Nov 07, 2005

OHMAWORD....your ear...i think you have kept us in suspense for quite some time...EAR POST...EAR POST....please :)

Nov 14, 2005

If I lose my job because I'm rolling around on the floor laughing until I puke instead of working, it's your fault entirely.

- M


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