Post-dentist visit I spy the space where my old tooth’s molar once was, and in its place is a semi-crooked, and oddly colored rock-looking temporary tooth. It’ll take a couple weeks to make the permanent crown, but this temporary fix feels off, like that little tag when buying a new shirt. Along the edge of this foreign chomper, it’s bloody and irritated. “They’ll likely be mad at you for a week,” the hygienist told me, “We had to move your gums to the side.”
Yikes!
As a child, my mom took me for McDonald’s French fries right after getting my tonsils out. Because, well, she asked, and that’s what I wanted. So was my post-mouth surgery reward of Mickey D’s a throwback to little Jaclynn’s feeling of accomplishment?
On the road home, I run science experiments with my food and drink. The iced caramel latte is first. I taste and feel the chill on my left side then move it to my right. It’s as if it isn’t even there. I stretch with all my being to feel or sense the food’s presence but can’t, is this what it’s like to lose feeling in other parts of the body? So I swish it back, grateful for the safer and very able half of my face.
In the rearview mirror, I cautiously watch myself chomp; my lazy, unfeeling tongue is unnerving, will I bite it? Moving a soggy bite of sausage and cheese English muffin to the right feels like standing much too close to the edge of the Grand Canyon. Unable to gauge its location, specifically its distance to the back of my throat, feels like I’m gambling with choking.
Not only is my McDonald’s only 50% tasty but also the fear of gagging in the middle of I-5 is throttling my enjoyment. Maybe I should have waited to eat.
The song with the lyrics “I can’t feel my face with you” gets stuck in my head, and at first I think I’m clever, but then I remember why. While waiting for my credit card to process, a cartoon of a tooth talking to a syringe on the dentist’s calendar had those words. But I will tell you, bringing my headphones and listening to my course on regulation and differentiating between fear and actual hurt really helped me stay present, relaxed, and at peace during the hour-long procedure.
Which was nice, allowing me to appreciate a really cool instrument that looked like something that should be used on the international space station. It was a large plastic thing that when the dentist pressed against my tooth instantly created a 3D image of my teeth, which I imagine will help shape the crown in order to match it.
Not to veer too much off course but bouts of shame were hitting me like lightning in my heart space earlier. I’ve mentioned before how unrelenting my inner critic can be, but for whatever reason today felt, heavier. Breathing helped, but also writing down its effects simmered it. I’ve found when faced with a gentle and loving presence, shame dissolves rather quickly.
Lastly, I thoroughly enjoyed Dave and my singing Row, Row, Row Your Boat in a round and our perfectly harmonized voices in Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star for Evelyn’s bedtime routine. Seeing her giggles and bounces on the bed was the cherry on top.
Hopefully, my tooth-healing process will move along quicker than the week the hygienist mentioned. In the meantime, I’ll do my Grandma’s trick of gargling with hot salt water.
Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 