Yay!

I can bite into bananas, burgers and, occasionally, people – who wouldn’t want to be my friend? A properly fitting jaw is a wonderful thing, you know. I also seem to taste food better, with more acuity. A certain chocolate and raspberry cake recently brought tears to my eyes.

Re-yay!

A year ago I was fretting, counting days til the surgery date and losing sleep at night. Now it’s all over! and normal life has resumed, finally; without the baggage of braces and hooks and explanations I am planning for a normal summer.

The giddiness at the new face is over now; but I do check, regularly, that the new face is still there, that the old one isn’t creeping back in. I heard scary tales of relapse, you see.

At school there is a 2 year old picture of the staff, my then awkward face smiling; you so don’t look like that now, some say as they pass; and I smile with a kind of gratitude, with all my teeth.

I haven’t regretted it, even for a second, even when I couldn’t breathe, or drink, or sleep, or eat.

*photos must be taken*

Questions? Comments? Leave them here.

1. I’m still only half debraced, you know. Let me indulge in a discreet, bored yawn about that.

YAWN.

2. Actually – yawning is still not quite comfortable. In fact, I learned recently that we shouldn’t have those wide, all jaw- stretching attempts at all and try to curb my enthusiasm.

3. My next ortho visit is scheduled for Thursday, and the momentous news is that I will then fork out the final 200 euros – all I can say is, hurrah! No news as to a possible debracing date. That’s what happens when I complain: this bit not quite right?  She tweaks it for me, and extra weeks turn into months, and it’s April already, dammit!

4. I was asked – “Has your face gone back to what it was like before, or is it that we got used to it?”

As you imagine, I got quite a shock after that; I fought the urge to run into the lobby, where there’s a whole school picture, and me and my chin taking prominence, there on the first row.

Ha! I definitely don’t look like that anymore.

“You’ve got used to it”, I replied.

I still had to check in the mirror later, though.

5. I know, I need to take some pictures.

6. Finally,  all the best vibes to V, who’s a week post op – we all know how much fun that is. She did it!

2. I must confess I haven’t  been nearly narcissistic enough recently -for the purposes of this blog anyway. No new picture of my de-puffed, Class I face; I promise to remedy the matter on my return to London early next week.

3. Would you like brace-free teeth for Christmas? My ortho asked at the beginning of the month.

4. I stared at her, uncomprehending, used to our routine: I take the train to Lille for my appointment, need sedation for lunch, sit in her chair all muscles and nerves taut; she tortures me with a big jovial grin, asks me questions I can’t answer, then sends me on my way; I go shopping to make myself feel better. Repeat ad infinitum at a 5 or 6 week frequency.

5. She almost took the top ones off, blogpeople! Then decided it was not to be til the next appointment, mid-january.

6. I’m a bit scared of losing my pout, now. Yet, is it worth keeping your barces on for life just for the sake of some added poutness? No, I hear you, and you’re right.

7. It looks like by the end of February I’ll have naked teeth – that’ll be 2 years of braces exactly. So, the OS knew what she was saying, then.

Be well, thank you for stopping by!

2. I suppose I should really take some pictures to back up the following statement: my face finally feels and looks pretty normal now – normal for a new class I, which is what I am I, hurrah!

3. I have regained all the sensitivity in chin and lips.  I could forget that I’ve had upper and lower jaw surgery, if it wasn’t for the care I take when eating. Chewing is slow- but it’s happening.

4.  I’m happy with my face, first of all because when I catch myself in the mirror I don’t think I look ill or tired, like I used to do pre-surgery. I don’t have recent pictures, as if this summer’s intense burst of narcisism had finally subsided.

5. The braces are still firmly attached and no estimation has been made as to when the blasted things will finally come off. I’m honestly growing weary of them and desire nothing more than a good thorough cleaning and polishing, and to be able to floss like a normal, straight-toothed, brace-free person… ah, the day will come.

6. still the best thing I’ve ever done, you know..

be well, thank you for stopping by!

2. I’m off to Lille today for an ortho trip. There will be shopping afterwards, to make myself feel better. I shall write upon my return. Be well, all!

1. James has finally got used to my new face and has embarked on a cooking mission to feed me tasty, nutritionally balanced stuff that I have to chew a little – make those muscles work- but not too much – under no circumstance should post-surgery diners reach frustration point and throw their cutlery in the cook’s general direction.
2. A total of seven people have declared that I look like Juliette Binoche, which is cute and probably a compliment. (I really don’t).
3. Teaching has been ok, talking is tiring but nothing major. I manage.
4. I have regained complete sensitivity in my chin and lower lip; my teeth don’t feel like blocks of wood anymore. I’m impressed, and grateful.
5. I’m booked for a visit to Dr L and to my ortho on October 7th; fingers and toes are crossed that the Eurostar will be working by then. There is still quite a lot of fine tuning to be done, and at this rate the hardware will never come off before Christmas! I don’t really care, actually.

That’s cute; so much for the good old ‘don’t smile til Christmas‘ method of crowd control.

You look so different, miss! How come you’re so tan?

Miss, I love your shoes!

Your hair is nice!

This is my first proper lesson post-surgery, and I have another 3 after this one, all 55 minutes long. I’m a bit apprehensive; what if I run out of energy, what if I have forgotten to project my voice properly, what if my jaws get stuck? Funnily enough, teaching modern languages involves a lot of, well, talking, and exaggerated facial expressions.

Once they’ve settled down, I explain.

Year 9, you know how much I love you, right?

Aaaaawwwww..

And I would never have left you at the end of term if it hadn’t been for a good reason, right?

Aaawwwwww….

Well, this is the reason why: I had jaw surgery, which was gruesome and bloody but worth it; and which is also why I look like this (points at own face.) I hope you still recognise me.  Do you recognise me?

Yesssssss!!

Right. Phew. It also means that I’m not fully recovered yet, because it takes a long time, and that when I’m talking to you I feel like I have a hot potato in my mouth, and I can’t articulate so well, which is only going to be fun for you; so the first one that giggles gets a detention.

They giggle.

‘k, entonces, vamos a empezar, no?

They’re lovely, aren’t they.

You look like a completely different person!

I got you some fudge as a welcome back present. Come by my office later on.

I heard that your favourite part was vomiting blood? That’s so HOT.

No, but really, you look like.. a completely different person!

Or would rather have nougat? Nuts?

Your skirt is falling off, you’re so thin. Bitch.

On Wednesday the pupils are coming back to school; that’s 250 more people to face, then. Right.

2. In other news, I have regained a good 90% of the sensitivity in my chin and lower lip- which I reckon is amazing. I’m tempted to think it’s another way to judge of a surgeon’s skill: during the surgery they need to push the nerves apart, trying to cause as little bruising at possible for the feeling to ever come back. Chances of permanent damage also increase exponentially with age – roughly, being 36, I had a 36% risk of some permanent numbness. But no, Dr L fully deserves his little altar in the living room. Off to light another candle right now.

No, he grins.

Well I recognise you, so can you hurry up so we can resume life as normal?

I’ve been back home in London for about 12 hours, most of which James has spent staring at me when he thought I didn’t notice. He’s not convinced, I think.

I can see how Normal People would find you more attractive now than before, but I’m not convinced yet. I’ m going to need a couple of days more, he says, pensively. You have porridge on your chin, by the way.

Just as well I could never doubt his deep, unwavering love and support for me, really.

2. When travelling, men offer to carry my luggage for me.

No more tales of vomiting blood! Gone are the days of incessant nosebleeds, the nights of dreaming about being beheaded! What a downer. Soon I’ll revert back to minute details of adjusted wires, one more, one less bracket, which rubber bands are in fashion this autumn and how should I wear them, and will I get debanded for Christmas? After all this excitement, I’m not sure I’ll be able to stand it. Of course, there will be the occasional anecdote about my orthodentist’s sadistic side, and I’m sure I’ll have things to report about teaching teenagers who think it’s funny that I have a mouthful of rubberbands. (the first one who sniggers gets a detention). What is your point Chinders, I hear you mutter, slightly hurt, are you going to bail now? Shame, your before/after pictures were entertaining. Especially the before ones. Nah, it’s not over yet. I’m following other people’s progress with great interest and not a little amount of sympathy. And I’m sure that when I get back to work i’ll have plenty more to report about people’s reactions; and that, bloggers, if i’ve got their measure right, is worth a whole blog in itself.

Be well, happy chewing, and thank you for stopping by!