It Started Out So Well...

I woke up this morning with a mission. Two weeks ago another bracket popped off and I was sure that I was going to tell my orthodontist to put it back on—as well as the one that came off six months ago that he didn’t replace. Those teeth have been giving me the most trouble as they feel the most out of whack. I can’t chew on my left side. I haven’t been able to for months. And one of my bottom teeth is tucked over the bracket missing tooth on the right side. I started to feel compression on my ear. This was, to say it lightly, not going well.

I bumped into my friend Brett and his dog Quincy in the street on the way to the doctor. Brett has lovely teeth. I took this as a good sign that things would go well with my conversation with the ortho.

I wrote out about four paragraphs in preparation for this conversation, as I express myself better when I write than when I talk. I get emotional and distracted and I seem to lose my point. But when I write, it’s all there in front of me. I feel comforted by bullet points. I can always just give the page to someone if I’m not getting my ideas across, like a lost and bewildered tourist gives a slip of paper with a destination written on it to a cab driver in a foreign city. Somehow I know I’ll get to where I need to go, if I can just hand over that piece of paper, the written word.

My little list was in my lap when I spoke to the ortho about the missing brackets. He took a look, and started to do more work on me than he has since I first got the braces on. As he, and one of the assistants were working on me, I saw his eyes wander to my list, reading. And then I saw his jaw stiffen. I had a feeling it was going to be downhill from here.

A half an hour later, when I looked in the mirror, I saw that he didn’t replace the clear ceramic brackets, but instead left those teeth untouched and added thick metal brackets with tubes on them to the teeth next those, behind them. When I asked him why he didn’t replace the brackets, he rather testily says that those teeth are “not your problem” but that the ones next to them are at a 90 degree angle, and he can’t put brackets on the other teeth if is going to fix that with the metal tubes. (Which leads me to wonder why these metal tubes weren’t put on in the first place 16 months ago! I mean, hello? ) I said that I haven’t been able to chew or grind for 16 months and I’m concerned about this going forward, because I need to know if I will be able to chew in the end!

It would have been very simple for him to just say, “of course you’ll be able to chew.” But he didn’t. He started pontificating about how he wants a correct bite for me—and for all the “thousands of patients I see.” And that “anyone who saw where you were when you started and sees where you are now would think the change and progress was nothing short of miraculous.” (Way to pay himself on the back there!) But the kicker was, and he was still testy and defensive as he said it, “It might be the case that this may take longer than originally stated.”

He was so unreassuringly unsympathetic that I just didn’t want to push the issue because he clearly was not in a place where we could have a calm conversation about this. I told him that I wanted a plan, to know what we are doing next, and he told me that we’re closing up the spaces on the bottom and now turning the premolars in the back on the top, with the metal tubes on them, which sounds like a good short term plan, but chewing is a long term plan that’s closer to my heart.

Needless to say, I left his office and cried in the street.

I’m depressed. I’m dejected. I had been so looking forward to 2011 because it meant that I was getting my braces off at some point during the year, and now, maybe that is not the case. I’m tired of hurting. I’m tired of building my confidence only to have it shot down every month or two. It's awkward to talk with all this new metal in my mouth.

But I don’t want you to be down in the mouth. So watch this video instead. It will make you laugh. We'll return to your regularly scheduled program soon.

Luxury

Today's word of the day from Dictionary.com was fletcherize--a word I will admit that I have never heard before. It means "to chew food slowly and thoroughly." Apparently the term was coined in honor of the American dietitian Fletcher Horace who advocated chewing each bite of food 32 times in order to truly enjoy it.

Ah chewing. Such luxury. You have no idea how tedious it is to chew food 32, 64, 100 times and not make a dent in its digestibility. Who the heck has time for this? I've found that swallowing things practically whole makes it go a lot faster.

This process with teeth has caused me to reorganize my relationship to time in more than one way--I've touched upon this in past entries--whether its living within the confines of two years, or a lunch hour. What was "before" is not "now" and I have to shift outside of what "was" into what "is." I still like the person I was a year and four months ago more than I like what I am now. I understood that person. I was grounded into that person. This person changes month to month, like bargain rent. This person can't get a foothold. This person wants space and time alone to process the process. This person is worried that blind faith in my orthodontist might be a big mistake. I mean, geez, shouldn't I be able to chew food after 16 months? Is that too much to ask?

I read this today: "Zen Master Jizo said that not knowing is the most intimate thing. Not knowing means to be open to all eventualities, to not prejudge a person or a situation. If your mind is full of preconceived notions, there is no room for an unbiased view. It is like when your hands are full of objects, you cannot pick up anything new. A closed mind causes separation and suspicion. Like an umbrella, a mind is only useful when it is open." --Gerry Shinsin Wick, Roshi, "Zen in the Workplace," Tricycle

So, ok, I get it. I've got my hands full of the old me, when I really should just drop that and pick up the new me. And stop being so suspicious of my orthodontist's abilities. For some reason, that sounds a lot easier than it has been.

In the latest Lonny Magazine, there was an interview with interior decorator Miles Redd, and he said that luxury today means "not rushing." I was so struck by this because truer words were never spoken. There are ads, one after another these days, for luxurious holiday gifts such as diamonds, cars and cellphones. These items don't touch me at all as luxury--I wear fake diamonds, I don't know how to drive--let alone desire a car, and my cellphone came free with my contract. (It has been called "the disco Barbie phone" because it's pink and really no frills.) But to not rush, to have time and space and a place to sit and breathe and think is truly my most coveted gift. It's the Tickle Me Elmo, the Furby, the iPad of my era.

And by the same token, maybe as much as I want to, I have to not rush the teeth. This blog has allowed me to take my time and space and sit and breathe with all that is unsolved in my mind and body. This is a gift in its own way, and my unfettered mouth will be a gift I'll enjoy in nine months. (Make all the comparisons you want to that timeframe.)

I hope Santa gets you your most coveted gift this year. And luxurious amounts of time to enjoy it.

Witty, Sweet, Grand...

I am remembering my dad. We used to sing this.

Yeah. He was pretty swell.

Catching Up

It has been a shamefully long time since I've posted, but things have been both so busy that I haven't had a moment to write. I spent a fantastic long weekend in North Carolina visiting my dear friend Emma. It was so cozy in the wonderful home that she built with her husband. She was preparing for an open house studio tour which is taking place this weekend and next weekend, so her walls were filled with her phenomenal drawings. I am always left breathless by Emma's artwork, not only because it's so very good, but because her home seems to be made to house it. I always want to purchase pieces from here when I'm there (which I did, and you can too, here) because I want to take a little piece of that perfect fitting together puzzle back to Brooklyn with me. But somehow, as lovely as they are on my walls, they do not have the same the same cohesiveness here as they do in Emma's handmade home, with the North Carolina sun streaming through her many windows, and her glorious garden just outside. But when I look at the print I chose, of a deer with morning glories and birds taking refuge in the deer's antlers, I think of her, and the many mugs of coffee (laced with eggnog during this last visit) and tea, and the dishes of homemade coconut lime ice cream and that we savored and her art is infused with those memories. (Thank you Miss Emma, for more than you know.)

I got my braces tightened right after that weekend and I think my ortho took pity on me because he didn't tighten it too much, which would allow for Thanksgiving gorging two days later. I make a new kind of pumpkin soup every year ( Shiitake Pumpkin Soup, drizzled with sesame oil was on the menu this time) and I live to hear my brother say, every year, "This is the best soup you ever made!" We had a huge feast and spending time with my nieces and nephew makes ever so thankful. (But of course!)

I met my friend Louise at Sala 19 earlier this week and had bread that was crustier than I should have attempted. Popped a bracket off and had to go back to the ortho to have it removed. He did not replace it, but I'm seeing him in another 2 weeks, so I'll take a harder line with him then.

Maybe I didn't push harder to have the bracket replaced because I'm tired of being in braces, and even if they pop off one by one then it feels in some way like a victory. I am no longer battling against it the way I've been for the last year, but just done with the process and ready for it to be over. I've likened this whole experience to being pregnant before and I feel like I'm in my last trimester, ready to move on to the next phase, and ready for the birth of the new me to finally occur. I'm "nesting" in a way, trying to prepare the rest of my body for the debutante ball which will happen when the braces are removed. I've been good about running and can go a full two miles without stopping. I feel so incredibly invincible when I run--that everything, everything, everything is possible. And I want the rest of me to feel that way too.

I realize that the readiness for this process to be over is just as important as the rebellion against the teeth. I've started focusing on images from magazines of people smiling with their wide open, toothy grins, and instead of wanting what they have and being angry that I am shackled rather than liberated, I am simply letting them smile at me.

Kinda reminds me of Ricardo Montalban on Fantasy Island (which I will admit, was one of my favorite shows as a child): "Smiles, everyone, Smiles!"

Yeah, boss!