Friday, February 8, 2008

My Ear

I keep getting myself into a snit about my ear. Yesterday morning, I was driving to town to prune roses for Michael. and I caught a glimpse of my ear in the rearview mirror and it looked red and swollen. Before I got to town, I had visions of ear amputation, so I drove straight to the doctor and asked to be seen. He was not in the office and the receptionist recommended I go to Prompt Care. I could feel myself crumbing in despair, and it must have been visible because she called a nurse to look at my ear. The nurse said it was not infected, but I could make an appointment for the next day if it would make me feel better. It would and I did.

The thing is: I didn't ask enough questions up front about this whole thing. I don't have any idea how long a skin graft takes to heal, what the progression is, how it's supposed to look, etc. When the doctor said on Tuesday that he wasn't happy about the vascularity not returning, I should have asked for a better explanation, but I didn't. What's with that?

I don't know enough so I keep getting freaked out. The wound site doesn't appear to be changing in any way. Andrea pointed out that there is not a lot of blood flow to auricle . . . that's why folks get all kinds of piercings there. So what does that mean if I need blood flow for the skin graft to heal? Does it mean it will take longer or that it won't take at all?

I've added large amounts of bioflavinoids to my supplements. Andrea says they promote capillary growth. I've looked up ears in Louise Hay's book about healing. Of course, ear ailments are a sign of not listening. What am I not listening too? I'm not asking the right questions, so therefore I can't HEAR what's up with this thing?

There are probably a ton of other things I'm not listening to as well, like my body asking for more time to relax and exercise, my trees and roses asking why I don't prune them instead of working other people's, my grandkid's wanting to tell me stories, my books calling to be read, songs that need to be heard . . .

I'm trying to slow down and listen. What else can I do?


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