What I Did Today, By Jo

I slept nine hours uninterrupted, woke up at a reasonable time, didn't remember any horrible nightmares (two nights ago, Terry Richardson tried to crush me under a piece of modern art that was supposed to resemble a ham sandwich), and actually ate something. Well, drank something: it was pureed, but it was calories all the same.

Then I got some laundry done. Then I cleaned up around the joint a bit, stretched my jaw, massaged same, put a heat pack on same, and dealt with some email.

Then I took a nap. When I woke up, I realized that the dude I have to deal with next week at the credit union is someone with whom I had decidedly unfriendly relations with in high school; maybe the years will have mellowed us both.

Max was grouchy, so I played outside with him a bit. Playing with Max is a lot like....well, it's hard to describe. First you have to greet him and exchange hugs, which involves him lowering his head and putting the top of it flat against your legs and *pushing*. Then you can play Herd The Human for a little bit, but then it's time to say hi to the other dogs in the neighborhood. And then comes Belleh Rubbins, and then more Herd The Human.

Answered more email. Chatted with Friend Lara a bit and decided that if ever the asteroid hits, she will be on my team. Answered email from work and from Dr. Crane's office (still nothing on the radiation front).

And then I Made Myself A Sandwich. Yes, friends and neighbors, I am practicing chewing again.

It was....um. It'll be some time before I'm able to eat in public again, let's just say. My mouth doesn't open very wide the first few times I open it, even if I've been stretching, so everything sort of has to get squooshed at first. Later, the jaw muscles loosen up, and it's easier. But right at the beginning? No good at all. It's like watching a very small child feed themselves.

And in between all these activities, and sometimes during, I found myself bursting into huge, wrenching, uncontrollable sobs. As Beloved Sis puts it, all the drama has passed and the cleanup is here, and after this comes the trudging along, and I'm having to do all the cleanup and trudging on my own.

Feeling this shitty, even for only two days, is both surprising and frustrating. Today was better than yesterday, yes, even if it was only marginally better. I'll take whatever I can get in terms of betterness, honestly, but it would be nice to bounce back a little faster. (There goes that impatience with healing, all the way 'round.)

Tomorrow will be Errand-Running, Goodwill-Dropping-Off-At, Grocery-Buying day. Ed and Anne are coming over on Sunday for brunch as we wait for the results of Adam's half-marathon debut (Ed, if you're reading this, answer the message I sent you on Facebook, willya? Thanks). Saturday, I'll be getting my hairline neatened up by the same neighbor who cut it, and maybe some highlights added, per friend Rob. ("You need some highlights," he said. Well, okay then.)

And Monday I'll see if I can be more fully obturated yet. Cross your fingers and fork your tongues.

This is very much like being at the bottom of a well. Yesterday and earlier today, I couldn't see *anything* except the walls of the well. They weren't even reflecting light. Tonight, things seem somewhat lighter, but I know it'll take a few more days before I even feel like crawling up and out of the well. I knew this would happen--really, it's one of those things that you learn about in school and see in your patients--but I didn't realize how incredibly powerful the down-ness would be.

This last week will be something to keep hold of in the back of my head for my patients, later.