Shari Becker's Home Page

As you know from my previous entry, it has been a long few months for us. The balance between writing and being a mom has been harder than ever. And there has been yet another curve ball.

Hallie's ear infections have returned in full-force. We've had three since March, and cold season is supposed to be finished!

We have tried it all -- a homeopathic physician, pediatric chiropractor, elimination diet, and massage treatment. Nothing has helped her little ears. A benign cold for everyone else turns into a major issue for her. She is stuck in a cycle: Each time it is the same. Her eardrums become concave as they fill with puss. My doctor calls her condition "sub-acute," my husband and I call it heartbreaking.

Hallie has been a clown since the day she could move. At six months she discovered that if she put underwear on her head, she would make us laugh. She began putting underwear on her head daily -- sometimes twice or three times after that. At 2-1/2 this little toddler knows what is funny. She hides groceries as I unpack my bags and stares at me straight-faced as I seek them out. A few weeks ago, I discovered a loaf of bread hidden in a spaghetti pot deep in a cupboard. She looks at us, tests us, and decides how to proceed. She's constantly asking herself, "Is this funny?"

So while she's wandering around our home singing at the top of her lungs ("I pay pano and sing loud when I go up," she recently told me), her nose is oozing and her ears are swishing. She pokes and pulls a little but no longer seems to feel the pain.

"How do your ears feel?" I ask her.

"Okay, Mama," she says as she plays.

"Do they hurt?" I prod.

"They okay," she says, smiling. Impossible. The doctor just told us your eardrums have no movement!

So, after falls, probably due to her impaired balance, three recent infections, and too many sleepless nights, I'm giving up. I'm going to see the surgeon. I suspect she needs tubes and possibly her adenoids removed. To be honest, it freaks me out. The thought of putting her under general anesthetic makes me cringe and shudder. I have horrible imaginings of a procedure going wrong.

She deserves better than a life of muffled sounds and chronic ear congestion and pain. In this season of epiphanies, I have learned yet another lesson: Sometimes the right decision is the scariest.