A Tale of Two Ears
Sam Venable
Department of Irony
The dead Dutch artist Vincent van Gogh and the living Tennessee writer Sam Venable have something in common—besides liberal application of the letter “V” in their respective names. We both lost part of an ear.
True, there are distinct differences in these “ear-ectomies.” Starting with the ears themselves.
In van Gogh’s case, it was the left lobe. In mine, it was the right top. Our carvings were done in much different manners and settings, too.
In van Gogh’s case, it was the left lobe. In mine, it was the right top. Our carvings were done in much different manners and settings, too.
Art historians aren’t sure whether van Gogh razored his own ear in maniacal frustration or whether the deed was done by his French friend and fellow artist, Paul Gauguin, who wielded a sword with the same aplomb as a paint brush. Either way, the slicing occurred in the heat of rage.
My ear-lopping was done with a scalpel, under calm conditions, in my dermatologist’s office. Good ol’ Doc Derm has been harvesting hide off me for decades. It’s the price I pay for a lifetime in the blistering sun, stinging sleet and frigid wind.
Thankfully, this excising always has been accomplished in the name of prevention.
Whether with blade, freezing agents or high-powered ointments that briefly turn my face into a potato chip, Doc has managed to keep all my skin ailments filed under the heading of “pre-cancerous.”
Thankfully, this excising always has been accomplished in the name of prevention. Whether with blade, freezing agents or high-powered ointments that briefly turn my face into a potato chip, Doc has managed to keep all my skin ailments filed under the heading of “pre-cancerous.” For that I am most grateful.
My van Gogh journey began several years ago when a tiny “antler” sprouted atop the aforementioned right ear. My wife says it’s punishment for hunting deer lo these many winters. She could be right.
Doc Derm identified it immediately. He froze it off. It grew back. He froze it off a second time. It grew back a second time. So he decided to dig it out. This is the dermatological version of grubbing an oak stump that persists in sending up shoots.
As surgical procedures go, it was a piece of cake. Doc and I had a good visit while he worked. There was no pain at all after the initial stick of a deadening needle—although the “cruuunch!” as Doc snipped cartilage sounded more like he was repairing a boot. It was stitched and dressed in no time.
There are pros and cons about the healing process.
Doc promises there’ll be no scarring, which I consider a negative. I’d much prefer a deep crater, outlined with a jagged arc. This would give me great redneck cred if the subject of knife fights ever comes up.
But on the plus side, I now have a permanent reply when Mary Ann starts issuing chore decrees: “Sorry, dearest, but I can’t hear a thing you say. Don’t you remember? Part of my ear is missing.”
Reckon van Gogh used the same excuse the rest of his life?
Sam Venable is an author, entertainer, and columnist for the Knoxville (TN) News Sentinel. He may be reached at sam.venable@outlook.com.