Orthodontics, and other instruments of torture

[slipjig3]

I had my monthly oral tune-up with Dr. Bartlett, my orthodontist. For the first time in a long time, he gave me a pleasant surprise: He removed my palate arch. Yay! I can feel the roof of my mouth again! (A "palate arch," by the way, is a coat-hanger-grade wire that travels from one side of your jaw to the other, right along the palate but an eighth of an inch away from it, exactly where you'd put your tongue to say the letter "T" or swallow. It is not, by any stretch of the imagination, fun.) On the downside, I now have to wear three rubber bands instead of two, which wouldn't be a big deal, except that the new band runs from the outside of my upper jaw to the inside of my lower. And I have to wear it all the &$%!ing time: eating, sleeping, whatever. Look, kids, I'm not fond of biting rubber voluntarily, let alone on doctor's orders. Oh, and did I mention that the insurance company wrote to say that they're denying coverage for all this, to the tune of $2,000? Yep. Worst month EVER...

Speaking of which, I'm still not in a good place. Still. A good friend told me that I need to be taking care of myself, but I don't have the foggiest idea of how to do that, other than vague notions of picking up tai chi again and...umm...well, actually, that's about as far as I got. I'm realizing that I've been far too quiet for far too long, but the problem is that if I start talking about things, I may never shut up. Plus, I'm learning that my bad moods aren't as stealthy as I thought: I've heard that coworkers not in the know have been asking, "Hey, is Adam okay?"

No. Adam isn't okay.

Comments

[slipjig.livejournal.com]

No problem. I'll catch ya soon.