Even if the moustache is cringe-worthy.
Like, *really* cringe-worthy.
I would rather see Abilene Rob with a 70's Pornstache (which he once threatened to grow, God help us all) than see my beloved Brother In Beer sporting facial fur again. The first would be temporarily traumatic. The second might scar me for life.
Some guys look distinguished with beards. Some guys look kinda classy with a moustache or a soul patch. BiB looks like he's come down the mountain for his annual hardtack-buying spree and bath.
Darling man, I will send you all the money you want, as long as you promise to shave.
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Speaking of money, an announcement:
The readers of Head Nurse have made it possible for a person from the Oral Cancer Foundation's Forums to get a Therabite that they could not afford to buy themselves.
You guys really have no idea how big a deal this is.
Trismus, or a restriction in jaw movement, affects the majority of people who undergo treatment for oral cancer. The percentages range from 54%, for those folks who merely have surgery that dislocates or hyperextends the jaw (as mine did) to 100%, for those folks who have to have radiation of the face and neck.
"Restriction of jaw movement" doesn't really cover it. My trismus is minor: I have an unforced mouth opening of about 21 millimeters (just about an inch) prior to stretching. Any opening more than that requires that I stretch, and that involves pain. Sometimes I have jaw spasms so severe that I can't sleep. Sometimes my jaw locks up as I'm eating, and I can't close my mouth for a second.
But I am LUCKY. There are people on the forums who can't open their mouths more than seven millimeters. Seven. I think there might be somebody there who can't even fit one tongue depressor in her mouth, and I know there's a person whose *largest* jaw opening is about what mine is prior to stretching.
Think of what being able to open your mouth less than half an inch would mean.
Think of what not being able to open your mouth at all would mean. You can't eat; you lose weight even with supplemental feedings. Talking becomes difficult; oral hygiene is impossible.
A Therabite, which allows a person to stretch and exercise their jaw in a measurable, comfortable way, can literally mean the difference between being able to talk, eat, and take care of your own teeth and...not.
I added up the money last night that was in the PayPal account and cried. All I'm waiting for now is to hear back from the two people I've emailed, to see if they still need the device.
You guys. You guys. What you have done is huge. You have made such a difference for somebody, and once they're done with the Therabite, they'll pass it on to somebody else who needs it, and what you did will keep going.
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In other news, I have to figure out how to catproof a Christmas tree. That should be interesting.
Perhaps hang it from the ceiling?