Jaws 2

The internet is a good place to discuss one's personal health issues, right?

Things have developed with my jaw condition. Last week, I went in for an MRI. I might be the only person in the world who was excited for eir MRI scan, since it meant missing a day of school. I went to the hospital and was almost late for my appointment because I went right by the office marked Magnetic Resonance Imaging. Soon after, it occurred to me that those words are what MRI is an acronym for; only then did I realize I had no idea what I was getting into and started worrying a little bit.

I laid down and had a cube of some sort stuffed into my mouth to keep my jaw propped open; if my jaw should have easily handled this situation, the resulting pain was proof that something wasn't right. I was slid into a tiny space, wherein I felt like I was in a coffin. I was given headphones to drown out the noise of the machine, but it played far more ads than music, so it wasn't remotely comforting. It all proved inconsequential since the machine's roar was far too deafening to even hear the advertisements. Having been instructed to stay completely still, I was careful not to move an inch. After about ten minutes, I was pulled out of the machine, only to be told I was moving too much, so they would have to start over. Since I had been extra careful not to move in the first place, I was ultra paranoid about the situation when I was rolled back into my tomb. Of course, my back was sore and stiff and I developed the need to itch places I couldn't move to reach. Furthermore, with the block in my mouth, I couldn't swallow properly: that's a horrendous circumstance to endure for more than forty-five minutes. I couldn't have been happier when it finally ended, as it was definitely one of my worse experiences in recent history, leaving my mouth in pain for the remainder of the day. This is why no one looks forward to MRIs.

Today I got to go in for a follow up with the doctor who analyzed my scans. This doctor does not have a bedside manner, instead greeting me with "It's really not good." I gave an awkward look while still trying to keep a smile on my face, and ey asked, "What, are you surprised?" Well I guess not, I responded.

Basically, this isn't just typical TMJ. My jaw is actually out of whack (this being a highly medical term) and there is no real treatment for this sort of thing. The doctor recounted the history of jaw surgeries with me, explaining that twenty years ago they did experimental joint replacement of the jaw since it had been successful with other joints like knees, but apparently since the jaw is so frequently used, the replacement joints inevitably crumbled and broke leading to major medical malpractice lawsuits and scaring professionals from experimenting in this area further. In fewer words, surgery is not a real option.

Since treatment is not an option, the doctor has had me approved for physical therapy in order to slow the deterioration of my jaw. Once a week I will go in and exercise the joint, trying to work it into a better condition. Since going to physical therapy at the age of twenty-four seems immensely depressing and most likely extremely dorky to be doing mouth exercises, I think I'm going to refer to my appointments as "going to the gym" and wear a headband branded with a Nike* swish to demonstrate my commitment to fitness.

Who knew a jaw could cause so many problems? This is totally karma for me laughing at a classmate who had to get eir jaw wired shut in 6th grade after a kickball accident.

* Just kidding, of course. Boycott Nike for their unfair labor practices abroad.