It’s been a bit of a challenging summer for me. Events and procedures piled up. I’ve proudly coped and navigated, and yet they have taken a toll on me.
The end of May: something. The middle of June: something. The first of July: something.
The middle of July: dental work. The double implant on the top right was ready to be opened. A 30-year-old bridge on the bottom left, fell out of my mouth. That would need a build-up and a single crown, and a lower jaw tooth extraction. All that within 24 hours of each other. That meant both sides of my mouth and the upper and the lower teeth, all sending messages over nerves as my body reconstructed itself.
August: as I am healing, I am onboarding for a new job, on top of my current entrepreneurial endeavors.
Today, in the dentist chair for X-rays to determine if the single crown needed a root canal or if it was impacted, I burst into tears. X-rays are typically benign procedures, but my bony gums can cause pain and even cuts when the plastic holder touches on the gum.
It did hurt! I cried out, and I cried. I actually broke down and cried.
The dentist and the assistant both were comforting. My dentist said, “Let’s stop with the X-rays. You’ve gone through enough.”
And, likely all that was needed today to soothe the continual dull aching was another surface adjustment. My single crown tooth, standing up to all the pressure that used to be shared with the now gone three-tooth bridge. Standing there and sharing the nerve pain running from the recently extracted back tooth. My little single tooth is standing on the edge now of the row of lower teeth. Standing there feeling lonely and vulnerable. Like me.
My new position required a profile picture for a bio and an ID. We can submit our own. My go-to favorite was my first choice. It was taken in great outdoor lighting (lighting is everything). When I realized it was taken four years ago, I started to reconsider. I took a new one, and the difference was striking, especially because of my hair. I’ve been grey for a few years, but now, my hair is white. The two pictures side-by-side reminded me of before and after portraits of American presidents after one term.
Four years apart
A big difference in four years is to be expected, but wait, I had darker grey hair just a minute ago. And there it was, in a picture of me taken at the end of May. I looked much like I did four years ago. In the span of June and July, I had turned white-headed!
Three months apart
I had been dismissive of the effects of the events because I had navigated through them and saw them as solved, and myself as healed. But, as my teeth would tell me, if they could:
you can be healed and healing, and feeling raw, all at the same time. Especially, if you took multiple hits at the same time.
Sometimes, like the crown, the painful parts can still need to be smoothed down some more. And, the sharp pointy parts can make you cry when something touches them.
It’s okay to cry, to stop the process, to pause, to say that’s enough now, and take smaller steps forward.
Mending and mended are different from being broken. They’re also different from being perfectly fine.
And that is perfectly fine.
My teeth and my life are dynamic. We are alive and we have been through some challenges. There’s breaking and mending. There’s joy and challenges.
My smile and my white hair are both confirmations of each.
(The End.)