I’m going back to the doctor this afternoon to get my jaw looked at again. It’s been going on for a while now. I’m not sure I want it to go away. Judging by people’s reactions, me spraining my jaw is by far the most exciting thing to happen to me all year. “I have so many questions!” exclaimed one friend when I told him about the injury.
“How did it happen?” they all ask. I wish I knew. I’ve wracked my brains and have come up with a few possible causes:
- I offered to help a little old lady across the street. She misunderstood my intentions and walloped me upside the face with her umbrella. I have never been called a “ruffian” before, and I’m not sure I like it.
- An elaborate fish-slapping dance.
- I found myself battling against noted competitive eater Joey Chestnut at the Franklin County Fair. Vegans were protesting the event, saying that hot dogs were murder; they tried to substitute tofu dogs for the Hebrew Nationals I was promised. Joey and I were disgusted by the idea of tofu, so we compromised and quieted down the protesters by agreeing to competitively eat KIND bars. My jaw gave out halfway through my second one. I am so ashamed.
- Had the ouroboros dream again.
- Went to the movies and got a box of Sour Patch Kids. Put seven in my mouth at one time, and the resulting wave of sour goodness caused my jaw to seize.
- Wanton fellatio.
- I was arguing against a Trump supporter on the TV. I am at my fiery best when I’m arguing against TV people. I like to use multi-syllabic words with them because I sure their smooth, orange brains can only handle one syllable words. Build the wall! Lock her up! Blood and soil! The list goes on. I felt something go wrong in my mandible as I growled “quasi-sentient Nazi-coddler” for the seventh time.
- About six weeks ago, under the advice of my therapist, I went off of all my psych meds. I had been on them in one form or the other since 1991. Thanks to a doctor I started seeing when I moved here to Ohio who seemed to be more concerned with controlling me than allowing me to live a full life, I was turning into a zombie. My emotions were being constrained to an ever-shrinking window. Now we’re trying to see what I’m like without six different meds coursing through my veins.
Unfortunately, the first emotion to really return was a profound irritability. Don’t believe me? Just ask anyone who’s tried to sing along to the radio around me while I’ve been adjusting to the med-free regimen. My entire face clenches up. Things have calmed down over the last few weeks, but the damage to my jaw has been done.
I’d write more, but now I’m going to take a handful of ibuprofen and lay my face down a cold pack.