LYNNWOOD — It’s Tae-Wau Ryu’s big day, and he knows it.
For the past week, the 8-year-old Korean boy has crossed days off the calendar, anticipating the one that could change his life.
Wednesday morning, he came to Cheryl Cash, his host mother, and said, "Tomorrow."
Tomorrow is finally here.
Tae-Wau is one of three boys who came from South Korea in October who have a condition called microtia, in which the ear, usually the right one, never fully develops. A layer of bone blocks the ear canal, and Tae-Wau has some significant hearing loss as a result.
The boys were brought to the Pacific Northwest by the Everett-based chapter of Healing the Children, a national nonprofit organization that provides medical care to needy children around the world.
Dr. Ron Krueger, a Healing the Children board member and an ear, nose and throat specialist at The Everett Clinic, is performing the operations on all three boys. He is donating his time.
The operating room and all other hospital costs are being volunteered by Providence Everett Medical Center, as is the time of another doctor and virtually every other aspect of the trio’s journey.
Tae-Wau’s adjustment was a rough one for about three weeks.
The fear of the surgery and the anxiety of being in an unfamiliar place took its toll until the concept of the surgery finally came together for Tae-Wau just before a recent trip to Krueger’s office.
Before the visit, Cash explained to Tae-Wau that Krueger was going to trace his left ear, which is fully developed, to use as a model for what his right ear will look like.
"When I told him the doctor would make this ear look like this ear, he understood," Cash said. "He’s psyched. He’s ready for it."
While Tae-Wau spent Wednesday playing electronic games in preparation for today’s events, Krueger was home carving a replica of Tae-Wau’s new ear out of soap.
"It’s low-tech," Krueger said, but the model gives him practice.
Today, it will be for real.
During a roughly four-hour process, Krueger will take a block of cartilage from the bottom of Tae-Wau’s rib cage. The rib excavation, Krueger said, is painful, and Tae-Wau will be very sore after the operation.
Using a standard set of X-acto knives, he will carve the cartilage into the shape of Tae-Wau’s left ear, which is fully developed.
Krueger will then place the carved cartilage on the side of Tae-Wau’s head, carefully positioning how high it is, how far back it is from the boy’s face, and attempting to perfect the angle at which it tilts.
"The results are far from perfect," Krueger said, noting that the folds of soft cartilage in normal ears can’t be replicated with one solid piece. "All I can do is capture the dimensions of it."
Still, the result should be a vast improvement over what Tae-Wau has lived with for eight years.
"When you look at someone’s ear, you don’t really appreciate the details of it," Krueger said. "But you certainly notice if it’s gone. I can’t imagine what it’s like to be missing something you know you should have."
The process doesn’t end today.
After the operation, Tae-Wau’s newly carved ear will be under a layer of bandages and fully attached to the side of his head. After nearly three months of healing, Krueger will use skin taken from Tae-Wau’s buttocks to graft over the new ear. He will then cut an incision behind the ear to release it from the side of the boy’s head.
The cultural pressure in Tae-Wau’s native land makes the process far more significant than simple cosmetic surgery.
Clark Sorensen, an associate professor specializing in Korean anthropology at the University of Washington’s Jackson School of International Studies, said Korean society generally shuns people with physical deformities.
"Usually, people with noticeable disabilities are hidden by their families, and so many rarely get out," Sorensen said. "Some even emigrate to the (United States), where the shame of disability is less."
Sorensen said that while attitudes in Korea are beginning to change, it is extremely important to Tae-Wau’s social adjustment that his ear be fixed.
"It is likely that he was subject to teasing and other bullying behavior because of his deformity," Sorensen said. "Even people of authority — say, teachers — might have reacted negatively to this boy."
Tae-Wau doesn’t say much, particularly about his ear.
He’s adjusted well to living in the home of Cheryl and David Cash on the outskirts of Lynnwood. He recently got a pet hamster, Genie, a Korean-language version of "Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets," and lately wants to be called Peter.
In some broken English, Tae-Wau uses authoritative, usually one-word responses to communicate how he’s feeling.
Asked if his new ear will make him happy, his face brightens.
"Yes. Happy."
Reporter Victor Balta:
425-339-3455 or
JUSTIN BEST / The Herald
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