What’s Next

I’d be lying if I didn’t fully acknowledge the elephant in the room. I’m triggered. All this mouth mayhem has stirred up so much emotional baggage, and my inability to talk for extended periods without pain currently, has unintentionally forced me to take the plunge. Put the pen to paper metaphorically. Get the words out of me, and mentally heal along with my very sore lower jaw.

The facts: this is day four without teeth:

I’m in awe that I did this for more than a year when I was 18. I’m beyond the point of hanger that is fathomed. I feel soup oozing from my pores and I’m officially on a leave from work. Pain is slowly becoming more manageable, my ice pack is my best friend and extended periods of talking hurt my jaw and make me feel extremely self conscious. My tongue keeps getting nicked by the healing posts. I’ve lost 3lbs.

My doctor assures me this will only be necessary until the end of January. Time for things to heal, and time for prosthetics to be built. There’s a provincial wide lock down, and now I’m terrified they will postpone or cancel because it is no longer an emergency.

Everyone’s giving me the sad eyes again. Or at least that’s what I’m perceiving. The ones I am, oh, so familiar with. The ones where they don’t know what to say or even how to process the information you’re giving them. My anxiety is feeding me thoughts that people criticize or question the validity of my life experience because “it’s too shitty to be true?” I loathe that I’ve had to disclose this secret of OI to coworkers and friends I’ve made more recently. It’s been a long time since OI felt like a third eye growing out of my forehead. But we’re here, and it’s terribly familiar.

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