Blofolks, I wasn’t dead, just internetless. Here are a few notes I made over the past 6 days. Photos will follow, if the internet keeps working. Be well, thank you for stopping by!
D+5
My dad drove up from Clermont ( it’s an 8 hour drive) and arrived at 9pm. He didn’t look too scared at seeing my yellow monster face. I tried to not laugh, it hurts. I jumped to hug him when he wasn’t looking and he patted my back embarrassedly.
I had to sleep with my mum, which wasn’t pleasant. I was meant to be the one that makes noise with my nose!
D+ 6
I saw Dr Lepoutre for my first control visit. It involved being dropped off across the street from his surgery and trying to hide my yellow, swollen face from passers by.
I didn’t really know what to expect so I was my usual blend of hysterical and giggly – mute version of course. He took off the elastics! ‘You don’t have to hold your jaw’, he said. Then he asked me to stick out my tongue a little, a few times.Yes, that was weird. From D + 10, I’ll have to take them off myself every day, as long as I wear them a minimum of 14 hours out of 24.
My dad drove us back to Clermont, stopping only once on the way. We arrived at 10pm, I was ready to pass out. It’s not easy feeding yourself with a syringe in a moving car.
D+7
It’s been a week!
The swelling has definitely gone down a lot; it’s mostly my cheeks and of course my chin now, which is still double and dark yellow with interesting dark red marks. I have also managed to get the constant slobbering under control; that’s a relief. My nose is still bleeding regularly but I don’t even pay attention anymore, just keep walking around with some bog roll.
I slept much better: my mum is lending me her state of the art bed that lets me sleep sitting up, but in confort. As soon as I put my head down it starts hurting and my nose clogs up. I was also told that sleeping up helps the swelling go down faster. To be honest I’m not so fussed about the swelling; I’m not going anywhere or seeing anyone, I can be as goddamn swollen as I please! I’ll never have so round a face every again in my life..I do look a bit dumb, though.
The cat was happy to see me and thought she would prove her love by sitting on my chest, clawing through my throat and headbutting my face in a purring trance.
We have no internet. I am hungry AND cut off from the world!
D+ 10
I’ve reached the 10 day mark, hurrah! In theory, I can now take off my elastics, as long as I wear them at least 14 hours/24.
Armed with a mirror, a pair of tweezers and all the patience I can muster – I’ve made sure I’m not working on an empty stomach, so this is post-4 syringefuls of pea soup laced with some oil my mum declared is good for me- I settle down at the kitchen table. I’ve also waited until I’m alone; why don’t you do it this way, she would say, would you like me to do it? No!
My heart is beating too fast; what if I can’t get the elastics off?
Worse still, what if I can’t put them back on?
Let’s see. First, let’s try and bare our fangs. The elastics are W shaped. Looks easy. Let’s do it.
The first one’s off!
The second’s one is off!
I’m sweating and slobbering. No wonder I don’t pee so much these days.
Onto the exercise Dr L recommended: sticking my tongue out.
Ever so slightly, my teeth open up.. Oh, nothing much, just for the tip, here it comes, and back in, and out again. I’m elated. I wish James could be here to share my little victory.
I’m getting used to sleeping up, but long for a wide, flat bed I could sprawl across, my head carelessly thrown back and no pillow. One day…
This morning I woke up feeling normal; until today waking up was a panicky affair, a sudden lack of air. Just one second to remind myself my jaws are still wired shut and I can’t yawn. Just a little part of my jaw can, right at the back, or perahps nothing really happens but the stretching of a muscle, somewhere.
Earlier I thought I was going to sneeze; I held my face until it went away.
Theorically, I can now leave the syringe and start trying to eat semi-liquid food with a spoon. I never had a syringe, says my mum. Just eat with a sppon, she says. I try to convey with furious gestures that if it ain’t efficient, what’s the point of trying to shove a spoon into my mouth? Only half the food will make it into my stomach, whereas the syringe is, if a little intimidating for the onlooker, great at what it does: feeding me in a non-frustrating, non-wasteful way.
There is still some swelling; my cheeks look a little more normal now but still feel tender and squidgy. I still have a double chin, of course, and a yellow shadow for added prettiness.
We’re still internet-less, and I’m restless and feeling very isolated. After 4 attempts I managed to find a book I could focus on. I have a very comfortable chair under a tree from where I see cats’ tails swishing in the bushes.
Chinderella - it's an orthognathic fairytale, you see. 