Friday, November 2, 2012

November 2

Halle-freakin-lujah, it is Friday night and I have the possibility of going a full day tomorrow with NO TALKING!

I'm super excited.

Why? Because talking is killing me, man.

Seriously. Killing me. I wake up in the morning, feeling fairly decent. (Keep in mind that my definition of "decent" had slid a bit in the past several months.) Basically, when I wake up in the morning, I lie in bed and move my facial muscles to assess the overnight damage/improvement. While it honestly never doesn't hurt to open or close my mouth, or squinch my face up, I don't want to cry first thing in the morning.

And then I go to work, where I have to talk to people.

By 10:00 this morning, I was holding my jaw while I talked to my teammates, because the pressure of my hand seems to hold the pain in somehow. ... It's ridiculous, how sore my jaw is by the middle of the day. (I'm not going to go into what it feels like at night and the copious amount of pain pills and sleep aids I've gone through this week.) And it's not like I'm chewing anything hard, crunchy or ... you know ... chewy. (That's right, I am still living the high life, eating at least one cream-drenched bowl of cracked wheat every day. And I've found a new snack that I love - mashed up banana and a heaping spoon of peanut butter. I know it sounds a little troubling, but I'm telling you, it's pretty fantastic.)

I tell you, it's the talking that's making me hurt.

Oh, and the smiling.

Honestly, I never knew how often/easily I smiled until it hurt to use those muscles. ... I, apparently, have a smiling problem. I fear that I am addicted to smiling and may need a 12 Step program, because I can't stop the reflex, even when I make a concerted effort to (literally) hold it in.

So, now I hold my jaw while I talk. Because it helps alleviate some of the pressure. And also because, if I'm already pinching those muscles with my fingers, my smile reflex has a manual stop that keeps me from hurting myself more than I need to.

The Saturday game plan: No talking. No smiling. Lots of soft food, and maybe a nap.

I'm hoping that, at this time tomorrow, I'll be able to open my mouth wide enough to get my toothbrush in there without associated pain. ... It may be a pipe dream, but right now it's mine.