On "Eating"

(Pre-op)

I am in a bathroom stall at a pizza restaurant.  All of my great new friends I had made that semester are sitting outside talking, laughing, and enjoying the famous pretzels of the restaurant.  There is a pretzel for me too of course that they had ordered.  No, I am not in the bathroom to use the bathroom or check my hair and make-up.  I am in one of the two stalls whimpering, panicking, trying to spare my friends the scene of me having a breakdown at the occasion.  I ordered an appetizer as well…and a dessert, things that I COULD eat—such a rarity at a pizza place, but it’s been over a year and it is amazing the food I can swallow.  Of course, it doesn’t come out the same time as everyone else’s food, and I am left sitting, watching everyone else eat what I am craving.  As my stomach rumbles I just want to scream.

I’m sure this is a common, nearly maddening, scenario for many sufferers of TMJ disorder, as it has been for me.  So much of our social life and networking and fun revolve around food and drink—as well it should—but it can be the darkest of places for someone who cannot chew, someone who has to order the loaded nachos with no nacho chips.

This is just a glimpse into the psychological world of TMJD, just a fragment of the dark, frictionless well where you are at the bottom.  You know there is light at the top.  But, how do you get to it, much less see it?  You cannot even hold your neck far enough back to look up to the light.  You are stuck.  You are only limited to what is inside the well, as far as your food choices.  It’s quite narrow. So many times you have to “eat” the same foods repeatedly.  But to tread the water, to bear the pain, while eating it, it is hard to enjoy.  It is now a chore.  It is now something you have to do to stay alive.

Eating with TMJD is treading water in the middle of the ocean, hoping that random fishing boat will find you and give you relief.

But, for me, a rope—surgery—is coming down the well to pull me out, it lowers slowly and it will be raised slowly.  It will take me ~15 months to get to the top, to recover from surgery, but I have been stuck and suffering for about 15 months, falling deeper and deeper.

(Post-op)

Now the rope has reached me!  I am on the way up. The well has gotten narrower.  Because of my splint, my choices of food are more limited, but I am sure it will widen, as I get used to holding fast to the rope.  The light is getting closer and closer.  I get stronger each day I hold on.  It takes about 9 months before the well widens vastly and about 15 before I reach the top.  My muscles will be sore from holding on for so long, therefore it will take me 9 more months to regain my full strength.

However, since I trod water and held tightly to the saving rope for so long, I will be stronger than ever.  Every taste will be richer, every movement will be more momentous, and every feeling without pain will be fortunes.