Vuja Duh

“Everything’s working out perfectly. The guys are at the swimming hole, and I’m home with a tooth ache. Nothing could possibly go wrong.”
~ Alfalfa “Little Rascals”

I’m a tooth grinder when I sleep. Always have been. Not that I always do, every night, but that I have, on occasion, since I was a child. I blame my mother, who also grinds her teeth. When I’m stressed or sick, I grind a little. When I’m really stressed, I grind like I’m digging for gold. And considering what those within hearing distance have said, I’m stunned I don’t wake myself up doing it.

The past several months have been a “touch” stressful, and therefore I’ve been a bit on the grinding side (not pun intended). But lately, oh joy, my body has found the nocturnal desire to up the stress-induced self-abuse. Yay #taxseason!

Since Saturday, I’ve been in excruciating pain. Not the normal “oh hey, my jaw is sore this morning I must have been grinding” crap that usually goes away by noon. No, this was a special kind of pain. The kind you wish on others. The kind that makes you compare it to childbirth, and childbirth is preferable. And I also noticed, I’m not just grinding, but clamping down so tightly that I’m waking myself up. Hmmm… cue the dentist.

So apparently—one appointment, one x-ray and one befuddled “hmmm” from the dentist later—I’ve done the equivalent of a herniated disc… to my jaw hinge! Not TMJ but just damage to the TM joint itself, with internal swelling on the nerves that run along my jaw and up to my ear. Awesome. Spectacular. Excuse me? Seriously? How do we fix that? Oh well, we don’t. Again, yay. Pain management and a sexy mouth guard while I’m sleeping and giving it time to heal. And before my “friends” start with the “you talk too much and broke your jaw” comments, no, talking actually helps it. It’s the clamping down and biting my tongue and not talking that has caused this. ohhhh I can blame mom, taxes AND my new-found edit button!

But I digress. It’s Thursday. We should turn this around to be all about YOU now, right? Yes! Soooo… in the realm of completely stupid self-injuries, what have you done? This isn’t even my normal 12-year-old habit of hurting myself in idiotic ways (i.e. tripping on grass, paper cuts with non-paper items, finding a way to hurt myself in a padded room). No, this is special. Now, that aside, you may not be a 12-year-old hiding in an adult body and hurt yourself on a regular basis like I do. Or you might. Regardless, you may choose one of those instances if it fits. What’s the lamest self-induced pain you’ve ever given yourself?

Come on… make me feel better about this while I wait for the pain meds to actually work. Tell me a story. Tell me a funny story that makes me giggle. Or a painful story that makes me wince. But tell me something. Join the stupid injury club—we have cookies!


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