Tuesday, January 16, 2007

Oceans and Teeth

Yesterday a dear friend gave me a suggestion. I am sure it was in jest. We share a certain quirky sense of humor. She said I ought to write my dental life story!
I know that gore sells, but...ick, a whole book of dental woes. I think not. I will share one gory detail though, if you are squeamish now is the time to scroll down...I'll wait for you to do it...This recovery reminds me of another one. In the beginning when this injury first happened the repair was as good as could be done. It's just that this sort of injury was uncommon and no real repair procedure was in place. What I remember most and am experiencing yet again is a very peculiar sensation. The part of my face between the bottom of my nose and where my teeth ought to be feels loose or smooshy. If I move my mouth or nose around too much there is the sensation of solid parts shifting that just should not be in movement. Now it makes perfect sense. Through this surgery we are trying to grow both soft tissue and bone where there really just wasn't any. It stands to reason that it wouldn't be too solid, yet it is a funny feeling. I'm trying hard to make sure it doesn't happen often. I want this to be the final fix for this injury. After all, it's been a lingering thing for about 20 years now.

If you were scrolling, stop here. Jump back in, but don't let your eyes wander above!
Here's where I'll tell you a sweet story of the Mr. He is away on business. Sunny, warm location. Yesterday, he called to tell me he had lunch overlooking the ocean. I said, nice. I shoveled. And shoveled. It kept snowing. I kept shoveling. He looked at the ocean. Hmm.
This morning though, the Mr. sent his love. By email, business style, of course. But wordy for him. I got a real thank you for enduring the snow and his recent health woes. A genuine thanks for helping to arrange his meals while away to avoid all allergy triggers. Most important though, without saying so, he told me I was special. And in his world of business movers and shakers, we have something they don't have. And it ain't a gold card, baby.
I'll be looking over my ocean of snow, while the Mr. looks over an ocean I'm sure he's dreaming of sailing on. It's all good.


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