Jaw surgery

I'm reading through old posts and finding myself smiling.
I imagine this is what people in novelas feel when attempting to recuperate their memory after a bad accident
"Que paso? Quien eres? Quien... soy?!"
"Tranquilizate, sufriste un accidente... perdiste la memoria."
"Pero... ayy, mi cabeza... me duele tanto."
"No te preocupes... juntos lograremos recordar."
... those type of plot-lines.

I'm finding some fucking golden lines in there. I really came up with that shit? Jesus Christ, was God talking to me in those moments?
Ha. Nah, more like some fucking raw emotions.

For instance, this line from December 2013:
(Imagination-- that's what has kept my heart beating all these years. That's how I can deal. That's how I handle anything. Just give me enough time to dream, and I'm good)
Or this beauty from November of that same year:
My heart is not gold, or titanium, or even iron-- it's coal... an energy source which is consumed for the generation of cooler shit.

It's all true. It remains true.

Goddamn, I said that shit? ... that's nuts.

It shows just how disconnected I currently am with the real me. It's like picking up a stranger's journal and being enthralled by it... then realizing I'M the fucking author... how in the fuck? Some "Memento" type shit.

I've been working on my vocabulary. On my knowledge.
I didn't know the extent of the loss until reading through my old entires.
The loss is huge. It's very much like hackers went into the filing cabinets in my brain and erased a huge chunk.
Things that used to be common knowledge to me ten years ago are seriously obscure little gems now.
I blame it on illness, I blame it on pregnancy, I blame it on depression... and I blame it on company.
It has all added up to me being at a total loss of the person I used to be.

I'm finding myself increasingly sad as my time to go back to Arizona approaches.
Originally I was going to leave last week but that had to be put on hold because I literally went through jaw surgery.
I wasn't ready for it.
When I was at the dentist, I WAS told about potentially seeing a periodontist on May 10th back in mid April when I had my teeth cleaned. The hygienist was concerned with the "pockets" in my gums and recommended I see a periodontist the next time she came to the clinic (apparently these motherfuckers travel around the city instead of just having an office we can visit... ?). She told me the perio was booked for her May 10th visit, but if anyone cancelled (and "there's always at least one cancellation") they'd call me to come in. I agreed thinking no biggie.

Well, May 10th rolls around and I get the call to come in at 2pm. I do... like it was just some regular check up, since I haven't felt pain, just some discomfort.
I then have this cool young lady come in to the room and checks out my grill.
She lays it on me: every single one of my molars is in deep trouble. Everything is "either a 5 or 6 (millimeters in depth. That's the depth of the pocket. If you have anything over a 3 it means you got yourself a mild case of gingivitis. Anything 6 or plus-- 8 being max, it is serious periodontitis), you're going to need bone grafts on all three molars, one premolar of all four sides. You cool with that?"
Me: Is it going to hurt?
Perio: Most uncomfortable part will be getting it all numb, but we first use the topical numbing cream so after that you won't feel a thing.
Me: Uh, is it possible to get it all done now?
Perio: You sure can.
Me: Then let's do this. I'm down for it all.

Big motherfucking mistake.
Chick leaves the room to set up everything and also "run the numbers" of how much this is going to cost me.
Perio's assistant walks in with an ipad to show me a video of "what is going to happen" and I very calmly grab the ipad and watch the video as the dude leaves the room.
Jesus fucking christ. I almost passed out as soon as they showed the scalpel. They were going to detach my gums from the bone, scrape my fucking BONE to get all the bacteria, then DRILL OFF MY FUCKING BONE, then add the cadaver bone, then suture my gums back onto my fucking bone.

I sat in frozen silence.
What. The. Fuck.

Next time anyone walks in it's the dentist's secretary-- she has the bill.
The surgery is originally $13,000... with my TWO dental insurances, it comes out to $3,289.
"Is this ok?" she asks.
I nod.
I fucking guess... I need fucking BONE CADAVER IN MY FUCKING FACE.

I sign everything and I'm once again sitting alone in the room... texting everyone like a maniac, scared as shit.
Perio walks in after perhaps ten minutes of me panic-texting my family.
Let's roll.
Lady applies the topical gel all over my gums and palate and area under my tongue near the far back... which ONLY WORKS ON ONE SIDE OF MY FACE because for whatever fucking reason, my dumbfuck body is resistant to this shit.
Then come the shots of Novocain. 
SIXTEEN MOTHERFUCKING SHOTS. SIXTEEN. Four on each side on the outside, four shots on the fucking INSIDE. And let me fucking tell you... the shot that is placed on the muscle that holds your fucking tongue on the far back.... that motherfucking shot... is the WORST fucking pain I have felt in my life. Give me seven spinal taps... 'cause FUCK ever feel that tongue shot ever again. The fucking liquid going inside sounded like a pop in my ear!

After that traumatic event, the perio left to "let me get numb"... yeah. So she's gone for about half an hour, all the while I can hear her in her two other appointments, speaking with equally panicked people.
My body starts shaking, a thing it has done after traumatic physical events... I mean, it's normal. I then realize that my right side of the face is not numb whatsoever. I panic even worse.
The perio's assitant walks in to check on me and asks if all is good. I let him know I am not numb on the right side, and he lets me know it's ok... that the perio comes back and reapplies more Novocain, in a larger quantity before the surgery.
Once the assistant left, I went back to panicking. These fucking breaks did nothing to chill me out.
After about ten minutes the surgeon came back in and went right to cutting my mouth open.
For the most part, everything felt like pressure on my bone... but after two hours, everything started wearing off... I felt three drills into my bone which led to immediate shaking... but the surgery had to go on. I felt everything on my hind molars of my LEFT side, and one molar on my right side. The suturing was the worst. I literally cried for the entire time, tears streamed down my face the entire time.
This fucking thing last three hours. Three hours of torture.
Then came the "healing"... which was a swollen face for three days (it's still swollen on my lower lip) and I drooled blood for two days.
I've been on a pudding and jello diet up until yesterday when I ventured to chew on pho noodles. It sucked. Back on the jello.

So yeah. That was my last week... just recovering from jaw surgery.
Now, before people go off and claim it was poor oral hygiene, it wasn't. Everyone was surprised because I would brush and floss three times a day like a maniac. Pregnancy did this to me. Two back to back pregnancies busted my gums. Had I not done this surgery, I would have lost my teeth, since I already lost plenty of bone in my jaw since my first pregnancy.
I basically have to sit back and hope this works.

Never get pregnant, y'al.