Keywords: Sharp, piercing, excruciating ear pain

When I sit down to write in this blog, I generally expect the readers will be my friends and family, or maybe some folks suffering from severe boredom. I'm always delighted to find out that someone new stumbles upon the blog randomly, but when I sit down to write, usually I expect it will be seen by a modest audience of a few regular readers. Well, tonight's blog is a little different. Tonight I'm writing for new people who are searching for the following keywords:
ear pain
sharp, piercing pain in ear
icepick stabbing sensation
excruciating ear pain
worse pain I've ever felt in my life
OMG my ear hurts so bad I want to curl up in a ball and cry
Will someone please tell me what the hell is causing the worst pain I've ever experienced!?!

Some time ago, I was having the absolute worst pain I have ever felt before or since. I had no idea what was causing it, and doctors could find nothing wrong. I spent hours on the internet trying to self-diagnose and found hundreds of things it could have been, but I didn't find any helpful information until I had talked to four different doctors and knew exactly what to type into a google search: TMJ

I went through hell trying to find out what was causing my pain. It would be accurate to describe it as feeling like someone is driving an icepick into my eardrum. Any time I would smile, chew, or move my mouth or ears in any way, spontaneous profanities would erupt from my mouth because the pain was so bad. I was actually worried when it happened at work because the stabbing pains would be so sudden that I couldn't help my outbursts. Imagine if you were to accidentally smash your fingers with a hammer, or slam them in a car door. Those words that would come out of your mouth... those were coming from me every time I smiled, coughed, or turned my head around too quickly. It was hell. And a recurring, unpredictable hell at that.

After a few episodes, I went to my doctor and he couldn't find anything wrong. He gave me some ear drops for the pain and said my ears looked fine. There was no sign of infection or any trace of what was causing the pain. He recommended I come back mid-earache so he could look while I was experiencing the pain. Of course, this always happened on evenings or weekends. He recommended an ear, nose & throat doctor for me to see. I made an appointment and the specialist said the same thing. Nothing looks wrong with my ears, come back when I'm having the problem.

The next time I had an earache was around 7:00 on a weeknight so I went to a Minute Clinic that was open until 8:00. I was about to pass out from the pain, but I walked my swearing self over to the clinic and had her look in my ears. Nothing. There was no sign that anything was wrong. Other than the tears streaming from my eyes and me talking through clenched teeth to try not to aggravate the pain. She prescribed me a different brand of ear drops and told me to go back to the ENT when I was experiencing the pain so they could take a closer look.

The ENT had me get a full CT Scan of my sinuses so they could see if that gave any evidence of what was happening. Again, there appeared to be nothing abnormal in the results. This went on for months. Twice a week I would feel a sudden pain in my ear and would have to lie as still as possible. I would lay down on my right side (it was almost always my left side in pain, but sometimes both.) Eventually I would pass out and fall asleep and the pain would be gone when I woke up. Usually. Sometimes I still felt a dull pain the next day.

Finally I had an earache in the afternoon, abandoned my job and headed for the ENT. I screamed as he looked in my ears because any movement to that ear would cause stabbing, excruciating pain. Even when I stepped off the curb, the motion from hopping down from the curb prompt a stabbing pain. He looked into my ears, I screamed like a banshee, he put down his instruments and told me everything looked fine. He could find nothing that could be causing me any pain at all, let alone the kind of pain that caused a scream that rattled the windows of his office. It was that point when he referred me to an Oral Surgeon because I may have Temporomandibular Joint Disorder: TMJ (or TMD.) He explained that the pain may feel like it's in my ear canal, when really it's in my jaw at the joint. In the neighborhood, but not even close to being the same thing.

As soon as he told me what may be causing the pain (and taught me how to spell it) I knew that's what was happening. The first painful episodes began after I had some extensive dental work, and I could connect the worst episodes to other activities that could cause a strain on the jaw muscles. Doctors had been poking, prodding and violating my ears, but could never see the problem because it was below the surface. That also explained why smiling or laughing would make things worse. Any time the joint moved, the pain would flare up again. It suddenly all made sense.

I was referred to an Oral Surgeon who asked some basic questions and took some x-rays. He said there could be treatment for the joint, but it was a last-resort measure. He put me on a diet of only soft foods for one month. Really soft. Ridiculously soft. I lived on mashed potatoes and applesauce for 30 days, suppressed my yawns, and basically did everything I could to keep my joints relaxed so they could recover. I kept my mouth shut for thirty days, and I am happy to say - it worked!

It's been a year and now that I know the source of the pain, I take extra caution not to put a strain on my jaw. I have gone to the Dentist three times since then and each time I reminded them of the TMJ and they let me rest my jaw so it's not open at full hinge the whole time. I don't chew gum, I don't eat anything that involves excessive masticating, and if I start to feel some pain coming on in that area, I immediately grab the ibuprofen to try and keep the pain at bay. In the last year I have had a bit of pain in the joint, but nothing like what I had been experiencing. Thank heaven for that because that kind of pain is intolerable, especially when it's as unpredictable as it was.

Other than the ibuprofen, it didn't take any surgery or drugs, but only a change in behavior to keep the worst pain imaginable from coming back. That is the reason I am writing this blog. I am not exaggerating when I say that I scoured hundreds of web pages, desperately trying to learn what could possibly be causing my intense pain. I found a few medical message boards, some of them were four years old, but most of the people writing about the symptoms were folks like me who were looking for a diagnosis - and then responses by people offering dozens of possible causes. I apologize to the regular readers if you've made it through this entire entry and feel like you're in a nursing home listening to people ramble on and on about their ailments. I know it's not interesting, but it's important to me. I needed to put my experience out on the web, just for the possibility that someone with the same symptoms may read this during a desperate google search like I performed so many times. Self diagnosis is not always recommended, but in this case all it took for me was to eat soft foods and relax my jaw to stop the most excruciating pain of my life. If you stumbled upon this blog because you were experiencing the same symptoms I was, reach for the mashed potatoes and applesauce for a while. Give your joint a rest for 30 days and if you see a remarkable improvement, you may have just learned something it took several months, numerous doctors, and too many incorrect diagnoses to discover.

DC Hawkeye on Ice

I love hockey. There are few things I love more than hockey, but I should clarify: There are few things I love more than watching hockey. I have never played hockey. Despite my predisposition toward anything involving humiliation and/or physical injury, I've never even strapped on a pair of skates. It's something I've wanted to do for years and have talked to friends about going out and doing, but it just never got done. Until today.

This time I didn't even try to sucker anyone into going with me, I decided to go to Kettler after work and find out what I'm made of.

The timing wasn't random, it was actually inspired by this article in yesterday's Washington Post Express about a hockey "skills & drills" class. The part that captured my interest was how they describe that the class "...takes anyone who can skate and teaches them how to hustle a puck." That sentence alone got me into a pair of rented ice skates 24 hours after reading. Having "learn how to skate" on my to-do list is one thing, but considering that to be the only thing standing between me and learning some mad puck-handling skills is another thing altogether. Learning to skate is no longer the goal, it's the annoying precursor to the awesomeness of me actually playing hockey someday. Heck, I play in a skeeball league, hockey is the next logical step, right?

So, a few hours after I read the article I began looking online for places that have beginners lessons on how to skate. There are a few places in the area, but it looks like my best bet if I want to start learning ASAP is in Rockville. They have a six-week class that began on May 15th, but I can still sign up having missed the first class. I was ready to do it, but I thought it would be best to head out to Kettler and find out exactly what I'm dealing with here. I mean, if I break my ankle during my first class, then I've wasted a lot of money! I want to know I'll be able to make it five weeks. Naturally, I headed out to Kettler so I could break my ankle tonight with less financial burden.

I didn't break the ankle after all, though I expect it will be a bit swollen tomorrow from all the wobbling.

This was a very difficult thing to do by myself. I knew that I could have found someone to go with me sometime this week, but I was on a mission. I had to do it today while I was making up my mind about the classes in Rockville. I arrived at the adult public skate as the Zamboni was resurfacing the ice. Then I watched a line of adults skate out onto the rink. Some were off to the side working on various skills, but most of them were skating laps around the ice. It was very much like the roller skating rink. Everyone skates in a circle at various speeds. I asked the girl at the skate rental counter, "I have never skated before. Would it be a horrible idea to go out there right now, never having any lessons, not knowing what I'm doing?" She thought it was a great idea. "You're never going to learn anything until you get out there." Damn her and her skating wisdom! I half wanted her to talk me out of it. She did the opposite of talking me out of it. She encouraged me.

Not only did the girl at the rental counter encourage me, but she was extremely helpful. She gave me some tips - told me to try figure skates first, rather than hockey skates. She showed me the different blades and explained how you have to balance your center of gravity differently on hockey skates and it's harder to do if you're skating for the first time. She told me not to try and use the toepick to stop, and then (bless her heart) when I told her my shoe size, she examined all of the skates to find a good, sharp blade. She told me where the lockers were and sent me on my way.

I was surprised at how well I stayed balanced on the skates, but that didn't stop me from clinging to the boards for dear life. I recognized one of the guys as a Kettler employee and asked him for pointers. He was so unimpressed with me. "I can't, I've got to watch the skate." I explain, "Oh no, I'm not asking you to 'show' me anything, I just don't know how to get started. How long of a stride I should take, how to lean, that sort of stuff. You don't have to show me, just tell me how to push off." He was unflinching: "Ehhhhh, I'm not an instructor." I was obnoxious: "But you know how to skate!" The best I could get out of him was that the instructors say to stride about the same as walking, and to hang onto the sides all the way around the rink if I have to. Thanks! I hope no shenanigans went on during the public skate while you took the time to talk to me!

I kid the skate supervisor, but I did heed his advice about hanging onto the sides. I stayed within an arm's length of the boards at all times. It was like training wheels. I'd get going for a while and then I would wobble and catch myself. I think the ice along the sides may have been harder to skate on because there were so many grooves already in the ice that I could feel myself skating in and out of divots, which made it harder to maintain my balance. In the endzones there were a lot of people working on various skills, so it was considerably more embarrassing to make my way around the corners because people had to get out of my way. It was pretty clear that I was going to keep my grip and was not going to go around them. (For their own safety, really. If they're standing between me and the ledge, I'm still gonna grab the closest thing to me when I lose my balance. Better to be the boards than them!)

I took a couple of laps and each time I was interrupting the same people who were camped out along the endzones. They were not hanging on for safety as I was, they were working with other people on specific skills. Two girls looked like they were doing some kind of ballet moves and using the ledge as a barre. They did not much care for my intrusions. In fact, many of the people looked annoyed as I made my laps. I came around the corners very apologetically and poking fun at myself while letting them know it was my first time. Everyone was accommodating and usually nice about it. It still didn't stop some people from scowling at me. I began to wish I had worn an eye patch, or something that would immediately make them feel sympathetic toward me or think that something was wrong with me so they would be more patient. If I had some deformity, or was wearing a head brace or neck brace or something, I think I would have gotten a warmer response from other skaters. I didn't have anything to outwardly evoke sympathy. I could never fake something like that and my actual physical shortcomings wouldn't have warmed anyone up to my strugles. For example, if I had skated by shouting, "Asthmatic, coming through" or, "Pardon me, I have irritable bowels" as I plowed through the arena. Nope, I'm just a regular person with regular problems, who just happens to not have a clue how to skate.

I took three good laps and it started to get easier until the Kettler employee who is not an instructor blew the horn and everyone began to skate the opposite direction. This was a game-changer. Up until then I felt like I was making progress with my right hand out to steady myself, grabbing the boards when I slipped up (which became less and less frequent.) When we switched directions, I had to use my left hand to catch myself, and that was much harder to keep steady. After one more lap I knew it was time to quit. If I sign up for lessons in Rockville, my first class will be this Saturday and I didn't want to push myself harder and put more strain on my poor ankles before then. Plus, the exasperated looks of the other skaters was beginning to make me feel self conscious. My Midwestern sensibilities recognized these two rules of thumb: Don't beat yourself up before you even begin, and don't wear out your welcome. It was definitely time to go.

I returned to the skate rental counter and my friend from earlier was at another counter talking to coworkers. I called her over and she asked if I was trading the skates for another size, I said, "No, I'm done. I'm turning them in." She said, "Oh. You can just leave them on the counter." I was hoping she would ask how it went and talk to me some more about how to get used to skating. Instead, she pretty much told me that I had called her over there for no reason. She was so over me. It was time to go.

I'm going to keep at it and eventually it will get easier and the wobbling will stop. After that, I'll move on to the new challenges of trying to learn how to handle a puck. It's times like this when I wish I could be a kid again. Trying new things is so much easier before we learn the concept of humiliation.



Sign in time: 8:02 p.m.



Sign out time: 8:25 p.m. That includes the time it took to rent the skates, get some pointers, and get a locker. I must have been on the ice only 15 minutes but it felt so much longer!

Vocabulary Optional

It was time. I think it's been over a year since I got my hair cut. If you've seen me lately, that shouldn't surprise you. I was beginning to resemble Cousin It. My curls look silly if my hair is short, but it shouldn't be so long that I look like I'm trying to win a contest. Remember the fingernail guy in the Guinness Book of World Records? After a certain length, they just start to twist out of control. That's kinda' what happened with my locks.

Yesterday I found out that I'll be attending a seminar at work, and I'm expected to host part of it. That means standing up in front of a crowd of people. Not one of my favorite things to do, but at least they're college students. It shouldn't be too hard, but as soon as I found out I was going to be doing some public speaking, I scheduled a hair appointment.

Back in Iowa, I spent anywhere from $10-$25 on a haircut. I asked around and heard that in DC, even Supercuts would run about $25. So, I went to a place near my apartment that had a good reputation, a $45 haircut and an open spot tonight.

I walked into the salon, was guided to the shampoo station where a woman scrubbed my scalp like she was cleaning the kitchen floor with a hand-sponge. She said a few words, but I'm not sure if they were to me or if they were even in english. After that, she led me to the next room.

When I walked in, an older gentleman said, "Ah!" and popped up to lead me to the salon chair. Wordlessly, he draped the cape around me and began to brush my hair with as much vigor as the shampoo scrub-woman. He didn't say a word, just brushed my unbrushable curls and said nothing when my head bobbed and wiplashed with every tangle. When his hands were close to my face, I could smell a strong odor of stale cigarette smoke. At that point, I began to look around. It was hard to focus with all of the bobbing and thrashing going on around my noggin, but I didn't see any licenses or anything on the wall. I wondered what the hell I had gotten myself into. For all I know, this guy could be the janitor. I didn't even know his name. I wasn't even sure if he was going to ask how I wanted it cut or just start snipping. I had no idea what was going on.

Finally, he said, "How you want?" Obviously he didn't speak english very well, so I just said, "manageable." I'm pretty sure he had no clue what that word meant. He narrowed it down to, "Long? Short?" Oh boy. This could be scary hair by the time it was all over.

I realize this is another one of those trivial blog entries, but think about this situation - you're at a new hairstylist and you can only communicate with the person by using the most basic descriptive words. For me, it was difficult - my hair is part of my identity. If people meet me when my hair is down, they don't recognize me when I put it up in a ponytail. And, vice versa. It's already happened at both of my jobs - the first time my hair was down, people thought I was someone new they hadn't met. My hair is big and curly and it commands attention. It makes its own rules, there's nothing I can do but go with it.

But even if you don't have hair that steals the spotlight, how strange would it be to go to a stylist and sit quietly while they cut your hair? For the most part, stylists seem to stick with the same conversational formulas. They ask the probing questions - are you a student? does your family live here? blah blah blah and there's always chatter to fill in the silences. I have never had so many boring conversations in my life as I have in a salon chair. Any salon chair.

So, once we got going, I was starting to dig Mennan. (His name was on his business card.) He was concentrating on the cut while I watched, and every once in a while he brought the hair between his fingertips and said, "There?" and I answered, "Okay." We had that conversation about five times. The only real substantial exchange was when I threw him off with the "manageable" request. He asked me a question, it sounded like, "Model? You see model?" I answered, "Where?" (a nice way of saying, "What the hell are you talking about? What model?") He went and got some books so I could show him a picture of what I wanted. Most of the girls in the book had straight hair, I said, "Not many curls." That's when we had are longest exchange:

Him: You perm.
Me: No, it's natural curl.
Him: You perm.
Me: Uhh... no I've never had a perm. [b/c I don't know if he's trying to argue where the curls came from or try to sell me a perm.]

He looked a little flustered this time & grabbed a big roller from the next station. He said "Big curls" and made a wavy motion w/his hand. He seemed to be really into the idea of giving me a perm with big rollers. I'm more adventurous with my hair than you might think, but I answered that one honestly and succinctly, "Costs money." He walked away - still flustered - and came back dragging the guy from the front desk. They spoke to each other in Italian while they made hand gestures and pointed at my hair. The other guy said, "He thinks you would like a perm w/the big rollers to give you long wavy curls." "How much would that cost?" "$140" [I didn't respond in english that time, just sort of a grunt with a hand-to-heart motion as if I'd been shot.] Then they argued a little bit and I heard Mennan say, "Low! Low!" and the other guy was shaking his head now. Mennan was pointing to the ground and seemed to be telling the guy to charge me less. It was funny - he was really committed to this idea of giving me a perm w/the big rollers. Finally the other guy went away and I was going to explain that I just graduated, I paid a dentist $365 to poke around in my mouth today, and the $45 haircut alone was a huge splurge. It would've been futile, so I just watched and he finished my hair in silence interrupted by a few utterances of "Here?" and then, "I shear" before he pulled out the thinning shears and make a quick snip at the ends. Not a bad idea to keep it from getting bunched up.

When I walked out, I was thinking - this was great! No b.s. conversation about my life or Brittany Spears or the weather or whatever the hell stylists talk about just to keep some rapport. This guy was kinda' cool. He was an older guy, and he seemed more suited to be welcoming Frank Sinatra into an Italian restaurant than cutting my hair. He did look like a successful night-club owner in all the mafia films. He could be a movie extra for that genre. As long as there's no dialogue.

In the end, it turns out - no dialogue is a great thing. It was weird at first when I thought he was a custodian, but after he got so inspired with the perm idea and kept checking the length over and over, I think he's probably pretty good at his job. In fact, his other job may be a successful night club/Italian restaurant owner. If it is, I bet he's good at that, too.

I'm home now and I didn't shell out the extra scratch to get it styled or blow-dried, so I walked home looking a bit like Scary Spice (Pre-Eddie Murphy) I'm going to bed super early tonight, get a good night's rest, and see how this 'do works out tomorrow. Now that it's dry, it's pretty short but I think that's a good thing. It was all length and no style. Now, hopefully, it's got some style. I think Mennan does. I can't say for sure b/c I can't communicate in anything other than a 5-10 word vocabulary, but I like him. Maybe I should go get some Italian language tapes from the library (Yes, I already have my card!) and I can keep going back to Mennan and learn Italian at the same time. $45 haircut/language lessons? Seems like a money saver when you throw that in!

I hope you are all doing well and are not spending more than $25 on a haircut. I may have to do what I told Mennan I was going to do before I get a perm, "Piggy bank."

It's starting to rain and I'm getting sleepy. I'm skipping laundry night and putting it off a couple of days. I'm way too tired. G'night everyone and stay out of the rain! And remember my tale of how nice it can be when you don't have to share an obligatory conversation with someone else. Even if they do have your vanity in their hands.