Yesterday Ashley told me to relish the experience of my last day being wired totally shut. I laughed. The only thing I’ll miss is the excuse to drink queso dip straight through a straw at a Mexican restaurant.
So here we go. At 9:45 this morning I’ll be under the lights. If any of you remember a cast-cutting day from when you were a kid, you’ll recall the feeling of apprehension. The last time my mouth moved freely it also separated momentarily at the chin when I swallowed. I’m a little nervous.
Even if I don’t get spaghetti right away, you can be sure I’m going to brush my teeth. I brush the outside row of bands and metal pretty often. But the backs of my teeth are a little fuzzy. There’s a guard over the bottom row that has protected them. And my top teeth have been clenched over the front. In the mornings I’ve got a funky breath trap that can’t be stopped. I just convert it to coffee breath as soon as possible. It remains Ensure or Boost breath for the rest of the day. Or kind of like fake strawberry and artificial milk breath on top of black coffee breath, plus month-old fuzzy funk breath.
Needless to say I haven’t given Ashley a proper kiss in a while. And I should have, because she has been a doll. People ask her if she’s enjoyed the quiet. She doesn’t have any quiet. I talk to her as if she can speek Kazoo. She smiles and doesn’t make me repeat myself.
I’m extremely grateful to be at this place, nearly over the ordeal and feeling very blessed to have good friends.