Jaws

No, gang, this isn't a vintage movie review.  Hardly.   This is going to be all about getting old.  And the ailments that we are bestowed.

I guess that, as the years creep up, we all wind up with something chronic.  Not the fatal kind.  But, somewhere in the annals of fate, we're all destined to be bothered by some part or another part of our bodies.

Hey, I thought I knew mine.  Rotten knees.  Ten years ago, I would have added perpetually challenged sinus cavities to my list.  But, a daily nasal wash has made sinus infections for me rarer than a Republican going to Thanksgiving dinner at Nancy Pelosi's house. 

But, of late, I've developed another issue.  And I realize one more time that even daily maintenance and a physical trainer can't stop the inevitable.

Yes, I now have jaw issues.

Several years ago, if you had the misfortune of having dinner with me, you could count the number of times I chewed my food.  That's because the process itself was quite audible on the left side of my face.  Click, click, chew, click, chew, click, click.  I sounded like one of those metronomes on a piano during a ten-year-old's weekly lesson. 

Suddenly, almost over overnight, it stopped.  Now, dinner companions only had my incessant comments to endure over meals. 

But the clicking was replaced by a great deal of pain.  Enough for me to visit my dentist, who had previously told me that I grinded my teeth and prompted a tinge of TMJ.

"Your jaw probably was dislocated when you heard the clicking.  Now it's not."

Good.  How come it hurts when they do that, Doc?

"Your muscles are not used to your jaw being in place.  That's why they're sore."

Oh. 

Enter a physical therapist who gave me exercises for my jaw.  Luckily, none of them involved doing pull-ups with my teeth.  Enter my personal trainer Christina who gave me a meat tenderizer-like device that I used to massage those pesky muscles.

About three months ago, my left jaw was almost completely comfortable. 

And, then.....

I got a case of bronchitis.  Coughing fits were regularly scheduled for 9PM every evening.  Some spasms were so dramatic that I felt I was tossing out whole body parts.  Cough, cough, hack, hack.  Oh, what's this in my hand?  Why, it's my spleen.

I was in New York when a really violent coughing episode made something go pop.  On the right side of my face.  Yes, my right jaw.  Hmm, that doesn't feel right.

As it turns out, my coughing dislocated what was previously known as my good jaw.  Now I had two bad ones.

I bit down and noticed that my back teeth were no longer aligned from top to bottom.  All that money spent by my parents for orthodontics and this happens. 

I then noted that, with the right side of my mouth not necessarily matched up, it was only natural for the left side to be a bit askew as well.

The real proof was when I put my night guard in that night.  It no longer fit.  You outgrow shirts and pants, not dental apparatus. 

I had Christina look at it all when I was back in Los Angeles.

"Your mouth is broken."

Thank you.  I couldn't tell on my own.  Duh.

Chewing is now a issue.  Anything that opens my mouth wide is a problem.  There goes that Ethel Merman impersonation I have been working on.  Christina has massaged and maneuvered to make it a little better.  But I realize that this, along with the lousy joints holding my legs together, is one of those things I may deal with the rest of my life.  But, then again, don't we all?

Yes, aging sucks.  Chew on that.  I can't.

Dinner last night:  Chicken fried steak, Spanish rice, and salad.