The Broken Jaw Diet – Me? Faint? Never!

Week 6.  I can’t believe it.  I went to get the wiring off yesterday.  Felt calm, centered and balanced.  Very zen like… Maybe Reiki helped? Didn’t mind the two hour wait this time.  Tried not to think about the pain.  Only the result.  Freedom to eat whatever chewy food I wanted.  No more mashed banana or mashed up baby food.  Unless I felt like it of course…. Might have to go easy for the first few days.  Get my chewing action back on.  No steak just yet… The doc who calls me in seems hurried.  I want to tell him “Okay, I know you do this every day but I don’t!”  I’m hoping I only do it once in my life.. Break my face that is.. “Please take your time & go easy”…..I’m starting to get hot under the collar.  It’s nothing to do with the doc.  I feel like I might have the meat sweats…. Phantom ones…. He twists my brace brackets off.  I think my teeth are going to fall out… He looks at me and explains that kids with braces get this done everyday.  This doesn’t help me.  I feel like telling him, I’m a hormonal women who has been on a liquid diet for a month after breaking her face… I only want FOOD in my mouth! He’s going really fast, like all men do…  I start to get really nervous & hot.. I take off my jacket.  He stops and asks me, “Are you going to faint?”.  Me? Faint? NEVER! He tells me to lie on the table just in case.  Apparently, he is too old to pick me up if I do….. I’m not going to faint.  I NEVER faint! I fall off my bike but FAINT, not me! I’m just prolonging the inevitable.  I’m torn..  I don’t want the pain but I want them off. I try to think about all the normal things I can do again.  Like kissing, licking envelopes, brushing all of my teeth and chewing gum again to get that minty fresh breath…. I try not to think about the mess my teeth are in..

He comes back into the room.  He asks me if I’m ready?  Of COURSE, I’m ready!  I’m MORE than ready!! He goes in for the kill.  Tries to break through the wire… A few times..  The cutting instrument is too big! He can’t cut the wire with it but keeps trying…I’m in agony as the wire is too tight and digging into my gums.. I’m starting to wonder is it BARBED wire.. I feel like asking for drugs..Then, I remember the comments the first doc made about childbirth and decide not to… I’m afraid of needles too.. I brace myself and try not to think about my jelly legs or sweaty palms.. No way am I going to faint… The Doc reaches for a smaller instrument and gets the wire out in one quick and painful swoop… Apparently, It’s better to take it out like a plaster! Quick and painful…I’m just glad none of my teeth went with it… He says I’m all healed and free to go.  My bite seems just right.. No X-Ray again.  I ask is this the norm.  He says they don’t like to put too much radiation in the face.  I’m just glad I don’t need metal plates…. All healed.  The Doc says to come back and see him in 3 months to check the numbness in the face.  Numbness, Schnumbness.. Who cares? I never want to come back here again.  I thank him then leg it out the door.  I’m free.  Free to choose whatever food I want to chew…What have I learned?  Never put heavy handbags on handlebars of bike… and if you do, GET AN X-RAY! Me?  Faint?  Never!

The Broken Jaw Diet – Hitting The Big 30!

I don’t feel any older.  Not much wiser either… Does it happen like an epiphany?  I’m still waiting for mine.  I feel like I went backwards.  To being a baby.  On liquids.  By my 30th, I had gone from baby to toddler.  The mashed up foods proved this.  I had made some progress.  I was really 3 now.  I had some friends over for an Italian themed birthday party.  I wanted to go but couldn’t afford it, wasn’t old enough….  Oh and yeah, had just broken my jaw…. Lot’s of reasons.  Another good reason for party:  Italian food is easily mashed.  Soups, soft pasta’s, mince & sauces etc… A great idea.  So I thought.. STRESS.. Cooking for 15 people.  Even with help.. I bent over to smell something and my hair dipped into the sauce.  My boyfriend tried to gently point out how unhygienic this might be.  I screamed at him “I DON’T CARE!” and to get the fuck out of my kitchen.  Words to that effect… He made a quick exit… Stressmania.  Remember, I was three.  I threw a wee tantrum.  My friend stepped in and stopped me from throwing out a perfectly good lasagne.  Again, what was I thinking!??  My friend calmed me down.  She has an 11 month old.  She knows how… It was a pretty quiet affair in the end.  Most friends had babies or some other sensible excuse as to why they weren’t going mad… And it got me thinking…  Is the party really over after 30?

I pondered this recently as I got on a 3.5 hour train journey from Castlebar to Dublin.  I discovered that I am in fact getting OLDER.  I found out the hard way.  I sat opposite two pretty young things.  In my prebooked seat.  They had their feet on them.  I gestured nicely for them to move.  They did so begrudgingly.  I sat down. They stared and sniggered.  Leg’s outstreched.  Shoes off.  No space for me then.  It felt awkward and uncomfortable.  I got more & more annoyed.  I tried to read my book but I could feel my temper rising…..  They whispered and stared.  Sniggering… How FUCKING rude I thought… The guy jumps up.  Puts his shoes on.  Come back moments later and throws crisps and chocolate all over the table.  I feel like grabbing some.  It is a free for all, it seems… I decide not to.  He then stamps on my foot as he sits down.  This time it is my turn to jump up.  FUMING.  Fuck this… I suddenly realised, I don’t have to put up with this.  Yes, I used those exact words in my head.  Shame.  Sounding old and pompous… I grab all my stuff ceremoniously.  I’m off.. Inconsiderate young things.  Pretty fucking awful more like.  I’m off to read my paper beside some nice middle aged man.  Who doesn’t make noise.  Who offers to help with my bag.  Who jokes with me about sitting in the wrong seat.  Who tell’s me not to worry consipiratorially.  Everyone is doing it apparently… Who offer’s a friendly smile..  I offer him some chocolate.  He show’s me an article about how the chocolate bar’s will be made smaller in future.  I feign shock horror and joke about the american’s needing less chocolate.. We laugh.  I have made my peace.  He has made my day.  I want to tell him about the two horrible young things but decide better of it… I realise that I have progressed from 3 – OLDER very rapidly.  Trust iarnrod eireann to do that to you.  I really don’t mind.  Maybe the party is over or I am over it Manners, being kind and considerate are important qualities to have.  Qualities you gain as you get older.  Bring on the Big 30, shock even the Big 40…..

The Broken Jaw Diet – Who’s the Big Baby?….

I offered to babysit for a friend while on the liquid diet.  Big mistake.  A babysitter should not have too much in common with the baby.  I was on liquids, so was baby.  Bad start.  I was napping during the day.  The baby was too.  What was I thinking?? I must have had baby brain too.  Like mush… All I could think about was my next (liquidised) meal, not unlike baby.  I brought my meal with me.  I volunteered to finish feeding said baby.  Another mistake.  The baby wanted to play.  I thought I could do two things at once…  With a baby… My biggest mistake!  I placed my bowl of soup gingerly on the edge of the couch with straw.  I placed baby on lap with toy.  I attempted to suck dinner from straw while playing with baby.  I was starving….. Then, it all went wrong.

The baby thought this was a game.  Back and forth, Back and forth…. He decided to join in and swung back towards the straw.  I saw it in slow motion… and there was nothing I could do to stop it.  The soup went EVERYWHERE.  All down the front of my trousers, cushions, couch, carpet & a splash of tomato soup on baby.  I jumped up and got even MORE on the floor.  The sitting room was destroyed.  The baby laughed.  I cried.  Hysterically.  In 5 minutes, I had wrecked the place & my dinner was gone… I look around.  I am in SERIOUS trouble.  The dad is a CLEAN FREAK.  Everything looks red.  I start freaking out.  I place naked baby on floor. Throw everything I can in washing machine.  Running back & forth to make sure baby is okay.  He is happy being naked like most men… I ring my boyfriend & tell him I need clothes.  He is hours away.  I run around wearing Dad’s hoodie with my ass hanging out.  If anyone looked in the window right now… Mum rings.  I am too busy to answer.  I change baby.  He takes a look around.  Suddenly, he KNOWS.  His parents are gone.  The excitement is over.  Now, the real fun begins.  I try to feed him & settle him for bed.  It’s past his bedtime.  He doesn’t care.  He fights the tiredness for an HOUR.  While screaming the house down.  I try everything.  Eventually, I rock him while looking away so he doesn’t know I’m not his mum.  It kinda works… He finally sleeps but makes these little whimpering sounds.  I feel awful… I traumatised him.  I wait for his parents to come home.  Fully clothed.  I’m exhausted.  What was I thinking?  I can barely look after myself let alone a baby.  Who’s the Big Baby?…..

The Broken Jaw Diet – Better than SEX…..

I HATE to say this but OH.. MY.. GOD!  I really think that FOOD is better than sex…. After 4 weeks on this liquid diet hell, I got to taste something BIG… something SOLID… And it was Beautiful.  I have never tasted anything like it.  I got my elastics taken off yesterday.  This means I can now eat mashed up food.  I appear to have made some progress from Liquid Diet Hell to Soft Diet Heaven.  For 2 weeks.  I can eat foods like mashed banana’s.  My boyfriend hates anything mashed especially bananas.  He won’t even put milk in his cereal for fear of mush… I think I am in food heaven.  He won’t like to hear me say this but mashed banana never tasted soooooo good. 

My first meal was ORGASMIC… I’m not joking!  It was like I just got out of prison and had my first taste of freedom.  Freedom to mash up whatever food gives me pleasure.  And there are many…. No more liquidising.  No more straining.  AND no more STRAWS.  I am in mashing heaven.  After I got out of the hospital, I went straight to Marks & Sparks.  I ran around looking for mashed up foods.  I was like a kid in a toystore high on coke.  Hysterical.. I was so HAPPY, I couldn’t feel my hands.  Probably from holding too many frozen goods…. I ran around till I found the meal of my dreams.  I went with Fish Cakes (Easily mashed), crushed swede & carrot (Already mashed) and beans (Still not a good idea).  I stuffed marshmallows down my gob for the sugar fix.  Well, I could only fit in bits at a time so melted them later on for dessert purposes.  I have never stuffed so much mashed food in my mouth all at once.  I think there may have been a risk of my jaw being overstretched at one point.  I didn’t care…I was delirious!  Like a stoned baby on morphine…. Unbelievably, SATISFIED…. I hate to say this but maybe abstinance is not such a bad thing…  For a while, anyways… I won’t be repeating the liquid diet hell but I may have learned a few things… like ……… is better than SEX…

The Broken Jaw Diet – Heal Me Quick! I’m a Believer….

Week 3.5.  Still Healing.  So they say.  The Doctor’s…  I’m not convinced.  My friend offers to do some Reiki on me.  She LOVES it.  It’s like her Religion.  Music is mine.  I BELIEVE that God IS a DJ and his church is where I’ll heal my hurts.  I think I’m in with the FAITHLESS.  Not sure how this will affect the treatment though.  I’ll try anything once.  Bring on the alternative treatments I say.  Anything to shake some of the pain away.  I’m bringing in the big guns… I mean HANDS.  Now I know she never actually TOUCHES me with her healing hands but there is nice music playing in the background.  So I figure - Why not? So, How the HELL does it work? Well, I’m not sure, to be honest.  There are some competing theories on this……

It’s all about ENERGY and getting your chakra’s realigned.  Healing hands are hovered up and down your body altering your LIFE FORCE energy till you feel calm, centered and balanced.  I’m all for it.   It relaxes me.  However, other’s disagree.  The scientific body of Psychologists out there believe that the results are due to the PLACEBO effect.  This means that it is influence of our EXPECTATIONS that have an EFFECT not the actual treatment itself.   We expect to feel calm, centered and balanced.  Therefore, we do….. They have used a few tricks to discover this.  Like giving people a sugar pill in an experiment and telling them it will relieve their pain.  It doesn’t….Yet, the majority of people said it did.  Those who believed in it, those who had BLIND FAITH….So, in Reiki, is it the fact that someone is talking to you before it, paying attention…  Listening.  Putting you in a relaxing environment with candles and incense… Are they entrusting you and making you BELIEVE in the outcome even before the treatment has begun?  Who know’s??  There are many experiments out there for and against both sides.  However, not all of us are believers…..  Heal me Quick! I’m a Believer…..

The Broken Jaw Diet – Heuston, We have a Problem….

There is a chance that after 6 weeks of this diet hell.  This might not work.  A possibility.  WHAT?  I hear you scream!  A CHANCE?  Well, yes.  Having my jaw wired shut for 6 weeks might not fix the problem.  It doesn’t bear thinking about.  But I’ll carry on.  I like to know all possible outcomes.  I’m not sure what the stats are like on this but lets look at the facts.  Halfway there and my jaw still feels outta place.  Not good.  My teeth don’t align properly and look like they are about to fall out of my head.  Not an exaggeration.  My bite is outta whack and my face still feels numb.  Not that this matters now of course.  But down the line, I think it might…..   I feel at the mercy of people who I don’t trust anymore.  Anything they say, I question.  As if I’m the doctor.  Me: “Are you sure that this infection isn’t on the break and may slow down the healing process, can I see it on the X-Ray?”  Things of that nature….What to do if this doesn’t work???? Em, SUE.  I’m gonna go Americano on their asses.  Sue the doctor who said “You can TALK, You don’t need an X-Ray”.  Well, I’m Fucking PROOF that you do! AHOLE.  Sue him for leaving me 5 days in agony and fecking up the healing process.  I’ve been told that speed is important when faced with a broken FACE….

What then?  Well, an operation may fix the problem.  Metal plates in the face.  WHAT?  Yes, I’ll set off metal detectors in Airports!  METAL DETECTORS!  I’ll have to say “Sorry, I don’t have a weapon of mass destruction, that was just my face….. My face.  My Uncle thinks this would be funny.  I don’t agree.  Not after 9/11.  This also doesn’t bear thinking about.  I’m halfway there so I’ll finish.  I’ll have more scars if this happens.  More visible ones. Not just the hidden one under my chin.  My aunt tells me i’m still beautiful…. She has to.  I buy her coffee.  Not with a metal scarred face, I won’t be….. I’m not sure which is worse?? Mental or Visible scars.  I think it depends.  On the SIZE of the METAL PLATE in your face….  And your memory.  My memory isn’t so good.  Maybe they will knock me out.  Maybe I won’t remember a thing…  Or maybe they will FUCK it up again and put plates in the wrong place.  I’ll be a real life jaws ROBOT.  I’ll be able to communicate from SPACE…. Aghhhhhhhh….. Heuston, I think we have a Problem…

The Broken Jaw Diet – I miss Toast….

I was thinking about the things I miss the most (While jaw is wired shut) ……

I miss eating crunchy toast  (hardly ever do but now I want to BADLY)

Kissing passionately i.e. not just mouth to mouth

Eating a big dirty McDonalds (Ooohhhhhh)

Licking things that taste eughhhh…. envelopes

Licking things that taste nice…. all major food groups

Brushing ALL of my teeth well

Eating a bowl of cereal for dinner

Eating unmelted Chocolate bars

Eating out without people staring at you like you are SPECIAL

Talking on the phone to a stranger without spelling out each syllable e.g. d is for donkey you DONKEY AGHHHHHHHH

Biting my nails (if i feel like it)

Choosing not to drink from a straw

I was thinking about having a FOOD party when this is over.  All my fav foods in one room.  Everyone can bring something chewy.  No straws allowed.  I CAN’T wait! Apparently, I won’t be able to stomach it.  I don’t care.  I’ll store everything like an expat who stores lyons tea bags.  I’ll have a pantry with all kinds of foods imaginable.  I’ll sleep there and dream about breakfast.  Followed by a passionate kiss amongst other things like…. licking envelopes

The Broken Jaw Diet – What’s in a Number?…….

It’s week 3.  I’m halfway there.  Adapting.  Getting used to the liquidising.  I can do this!  It’s also my 30th birthday soon.  Milestone.  Right?  I’m not so sure.  I really don’t want to be still sucking my food through a straw on my 30th! I may also need some new teeth.  This is NOT how I imagined it to be.  Spent my twenties in college & travelled around.  Postponed RESPONSIBILITY a bit.  Thought I might have decided on a career by 30.  Maybe met the man of my dreams…… Then it came and bit me on the ass.  Big time.  Reality & Responsibility….. They suck.  The man of your dreams should stay there.  Fantasy is there for a reason.  Your career is never set in stone.  The recession can sure change your direction.  Who care’s if you spent years studying and spent lots of cash?  There aint no jobs for your kind no more….. So I say to hell with the number game! 

 Why so much emphasis on a number?  What have you achieved and all dat shite….. Well, Do I really wanna say I successfully liquidised shepards pie and got it down my gob.  Er, well no.  What’s in a number anyway?  We place so much emphasis on numbers.  Women especially.  Age.  Number on scales.  What does it matter?  I lost a bit of weight.  Was it worth the pain?  Hell no!  It’s all over the magazines.  Why do we think that if we are below a certain number, we will be happy…. It’s a lie.  Just like our biological clock.  TICK TOCK.  Bollix.  Now, we have IVF.  A woman can now choose to have a baby at 70.  But, would you want to?  While your losing your teeth, your baby is getting theirs…. I’m losing my teeth and making baby food to eat.  Not a nice combination.   GET REAL you mad fantasy fuckers…… What’s in a number? Well, it turns out alot.

The Broken Jaw Diet – More Tea Please…..

Socialising with a Broken Jaw is not easy.  Especially not easy for an Introvert like me….. According to Psycholgies magazine, Extroverts get their energy from being with people & Introverts lose their energy from being around others.  On a normal day, it drains me.  With a broken jaw, it’s hard BLOODY work.  Try being chatty with your jaw wired shut.  Nobody can understand you.  Not over the loud music.  You need to repeat yourself several times.  It’s easier just to say nothing.  Just watch & observe.  You catch a few smiles ‘cos you look alright from the outside.  Try smiling.  Not a good look.  My boyfriend has nicknamed me jaws.  The evil guy from one of the James Bond movies.  He can eat you up with his metal teeth.  I can’t even lick an envelope.  On the way into the club, the bouncer tells me to smile in a sneery way.  I decide not to scare him…

Dancing away, I realise I’m having trouble singing along.  The two feel like they belong together.  One does not go well without the other.  I lose my desire to dance.  I’m starting to feel self conscious.  I don’t have the buffering effects of alcohol to last the distance.  My confidence is slipping.  I glance around.  I see the emptiness of my surroundings.  Drunken attempts at seduction.  Empty looks of desire.  I’m thinking it’s time to go.  I’m in pain now and solpadine is calling me home….

I like being alone sometimes.  Time to regroup.  Think.  Refuel.  Other times, I like to hang out with good people.  My friend takes me to the Tea Garden’s in Dublin.  She’s always taking me to different places.  Now that I don’t drink.  Places I never knew existed.  It’s great!  Just the two of us.  I LOVE it.  It’s a lovely, spacious, dark, cushioned room with an indian vibe.  You take your shoes off and sit on cushions.  There is the choice of lots of tea’s and Shisha – fruit tobacco.  It reminds me of Egypt.  Strong smell of incense.  The music is really chilled out.  The tea comforts.  You relax.  You forget the hustle and bustle of outside.  The mentalness of town.  It’s cool.  I never want to leave….

We meet a girl there who is sooo chilled out, I think she must be stoned.  It takes her a few minutes to register what is being said to her, gather her thoughts and get her response out SLOWLY.  I have millions of thoughts in my head fighting to get out all at once.  I have to tell them “One at a time!”, “Wait your turn or people will think your mad!”.  Be great if there was a button.  Mellow.  Be as chilled out as that girl….    I leave the tea room and miss my train.  An hour wait till the next one.  Usually, I would freak out.  This time, I went for a smoothie.  Feeling chilled.  No stress.  Not frazzled or dying for a smoke…Not a hair outta place!  Made the next train okay.  Perfect timing.  I’m thinking more Tea please……

The Broken Jaw Diet – On Yer Bike!….

People have been saying it’s time to get back in the saddle.  My Uncle specifically.  “If you don’t get back on soon, you’ll never get on again!”.  That kind of thing! On yer Bike….It’s only been two weeks.  I’m thinking I want to sell THE bike.  I have two.  An old crusty mountain bike I used to cycle to the train station.  Brand new racer that nearly KILLED me.  What to do???  I’m thinking sell the TWO!  The old crusty was used on a daily basis to deter young fellas from wanting to rob it.  It’s knackered.  Not unlike me.  The ‘ol faithful has a lock that has been tempted many times.  There is a big hole in it.  They never broke through it.  They got me once before though.  I learned that lesson well.  A sturdy lock is a must.  Now I’m thinking a sturdy helmet with a chin strap is also a must.  Only if I ever get back in the saddle that is…..

I had a sturdy montain bike for nearly 8 years.  I know it’s sad to admit but I LOVED that bike.  It was Red, Black and White.  It never let me down & got me home safely every night.  It was beaten up before.  They couldn’t rob it so they damaged it.  Fukers! Cost €150.  I fixed it up over the years.  Eventually some shit got through the lock. It was stolen.  I cried.  Actually, I rang 999.  Crying.  They told me to hang up.  Apparently “It’s NOT an emergency”.  It was to me!  I rang my boyfriend crying hysterically.  He thought I had been attacked.  It felt like it.  I even rang the police station to find out about the CCTV cameras.  No joy there!  My Uncle bought me a second hand moutain bike to ease the pain.  I bought the racer to do some long distance charity cycles.  This plan backfired in sooo many ways….

1) I’m lazy…

2)  The racer looks the part but doesn’t quite fit….

I like my bikes like I like my men.  Strong, sturdy and reliable.  Look the part and act the part.  The racer would take a corner and nearly slide out from under you.  My weight could have been something to do with it.  More likely than not was my reluctance to keep pumping up those skinny asses tyres!  The mountain bike would carry you home safely when DRUNK.  The racer would knock you off when SOBER.  Speed is an issue.  The racer is faster.  Who want’s speed over reliability?  Not me! The mountain bike will get me there in good time.  In one piece.  Think that’s me decided then.  Out with the new and in with the old…  The good ‘ol reliable mountain bike is for me! If it ‘aint broke, why buy a new & improved more accident prone model?  As for the owner, I’ll be back on the saddle again!  I’ll sell the two bikes and buy the ’ol reliable Red, Black and White GIANT Mountain Bike.  Put my trust back in the ‘ol faithful.  I don’t think it matters when… They say you never forget how to ride a bike …….So Fellow riders….on yer Bike!…….