Maybe it's all the applesauce gone to my head, but I can't help but see a resemblance. I'm thinking "running mate."
posted by Kate at 10:42 AM link/comments
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
I’ve known for a long time – maybe 10 years – that I have TMJ. It’s been a slow evolution, one that started with a bit of “hey-how-come-my-jaw-made-that-weird-noise” and progressed to the point where, about 2 weeks ago, I yawned and was convinced for about 3 seconds that my mouth wasn’t going to close.
A lot went through my head in those three seconds. I imagined myself standing up from my desk, putting on my coat and gloves, and trotting two blocks, across Euclid Avenue, through the subzero wind chill and blowing snow to the Emergency Room, all the while with my mouth wide open. I imagined people staring, children screaming, and the cavalcade of hilarity that was going to unfold when I approached the ER sign-in and declared, “Eh-huse hee. Ih hee hy houth ih huck.” (Translation: “Excuse me. It seems my mouth is stuck.”)
Right now, you are also thinking the naughty thoughts that “lockjaw” conjures up, and so did I:
Doctor: How did this happen?
Kate (mouth open): I ‘awned.
Doctor (chortling): Yeah. Yawned.
Fortunately, my mouth eventually closed, accompanied by a loud popping noise and shooting pain. I’ve gotten used to the popping and pain when I open my mouth too wide (“too wide,” in my case, means “the amount of width required to have yourself a satisfying yawn”). It’s the locking that scared the crap out of me, so I finally decided to go to the doctor.
I made an appointment with the oral surgeon who ripped my wisdom teeth out of my head about two years ago. My oral surgeon and his two partners operate a practice called The Weirdest Medical Office I Have Ever Seen, Inc. All of the doctors there are both dentists and doctors, and they all specialize in all of the following: dentistry, oral and maxillofacial surgery, hair restoration, and cosmetic surgery. You can get your cavities drilled and your boobs hiked all under one roof. The waiting room is endlessly fascinating. Next to the plastic wall rack of dog-eared People and Northeast Ohio Live magazines are smaller media racks filled with informational brochures for nips, tucks, lifts -- all manner of “jobs” – as well as Capital One brochures advertising their special cosmetic loan program (complete with low 5.9% APR!). My favorite is the big self-standing display at the reception desk that reads – I shit you not – “Join us for bagels and botox!”
What first attracted me to this practice was that a) The doctors in the practice are well known as the best oral surgeons around, and b) They take my insurance. Plus, when they took out my teeth, they gave me a whole lot of Schedule II narcotics to play with, and those narcotics, combined with fear of dry socket, were the reasons I managed to quit smoking.
After being ushered down the way-too-tastefully-decorated-for-a-doctors’-office hall and installed in the exam room, Dr. Eclectic came in, listened to my jaw do its best imitation of the Stomp ensemble, and told me that I was fucked.
Apparently, there are two types of TMJ problems. The first is mostly muscular. It happens when people clench or grind their teeth or have a lot of facial tension. The second is mechanical; the jaw is simply out of whack. The doctor informed me that I have both problems.
I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. Before Dr. TaTas came in, when I was filling out their little “TMJ Questionnaire,” I answered “yes” to the one that asked whether I got headaches. I thought about it and realized that it wasn’t entirely true. I don’t “get” headaches. I have a headache. One continuous headache that has been going on for so long that I don’t even notice it anymore. Then I thought about what it would be like to not have a headache, and I got kind of excited.
My reluctance to go to the doctor about the problem in the past has been because everyone I talked to said the only cure for TMJ was to have surgery, which then required the jaw to be wired shut for a couple of months. I was not (and am still not) willing to mumble and drink through a straw for an extended period of time, because yelling at my cats and kissing my husband (and vice-versa) are two capabilities with which I will simply not part.
As it turns out, the jaw-wiring thing was the old way of treating TMJ. Now, everything is far more complicated.
For the next few months, as long as my insurance will cover everything, I get to sample a wacky buffet of treatment that includes drugs (steroids, anti-inflammatories, and muscle relaxants in addition to the anti-diabetic and anti-androgen drugs I already take to combat this) and a soft food diet, followed by an MRI, wearing a brace in my mouth while I sleep, and, if that fails, surgery.
Tonight I went to the grocery store and picked up a whole lot of soup, jello, pudding, applesauce, and string cheese. I don’t know if the cheese is technically legal on the soft diet, but I have this thing about protein. I guess I’m going to have to develop some culinary creativity, because I’m pretty sure the jello is gonna get old real fast. Look in bookstores for my cookbook, “Making Mushy Food Taste Good,” which I will no doubt be able to write by the middle of February.
posted by Kate at 8:25 PM link/comments