It actually had an excellent answer to a situation I was helping with elsewhere, and gave some comfort to people who needed it.
I think that's wonderful. It is very fitting that he should be helping people with words spoken sixty years ago.
I have braces coping strategies for you if it is dreadful (did they give you dental wax? If not, poke me and I will tell you about it, and also about the merits of easily obtained numbing agents, like Orajel.)
They're Invisalign braces rather than wire-and-bracket (which I had for most of middle and high school), which is part of the problem. The number of composite attachments required to be bonded to my teeth in order to exert the necessary forces was far higher than I had been expecting, so that when I take the aligners out to eat, I have a very spiky mouthful of composite that my lips and tongue are doing their best to snag on at every opportunity, and the fact that I can only eat or drink with the aligners out and then need to floss and brush my teeth before replacing them and they need to be in my mouth a minimum of twenty-two hours a day is a huge issue, because I am not the sort of person who can eat one meal in the morning and one meal in the evening and not have my body try to crash on me. The one-meal plan is not a good idea. It's what happens when I am too stressed to feel hunger and have to force myself to treat dinner as a real thing; I associate it with very bad phases of my life. I carry clementines around in winter so that I can snack on them. I buy herbal chai from Porter Square Books because they're one of the few places in the Boston area that serves a chai latte that won't give me a migraine. This week I've been living on cough drops. All of these things are apparently no go for the next year. The dentist even tried to discourage me from drinking tea, telling me an anecdote about his brother who insisted on drinking coffee with his Invisalign in: "Did it affect the treatment?"—"Well, there was the staining . . ." I drink tea like I breathe. It's my major source of hydration in the winter because I am so damn cold all the time. Because my relationship with food is complicated at the best of times, I asked multiple times in advance whether this kind of orthodontics would affect what I could eat. It was perfectly accurate that I was told no, it wouldn't; I didn't realize it was the wrong axis of question. I am actively worried that I will simply stop eating because it's so much trouble. It took an effort to persuade myself to make dinner tonight and by that point I'd been hungry for hours.
And there's just the fact that it fucking hurts, but that I expected. The rest is taking me aback and it's very upsetting.
You win on the extreme jaw surgery front, though. I'm sorry.
I love the bus waiting mermaid best, but that is perhaps because I spent so much of my youth waiting for buses.
no subject
I think that's wonderful. It is very fitting that he should be helping people with words spoken sixty years ago.
I have braces coping strategies for you if it is dreadful (did they give you dental wax? If not, poke me and I will tell you about it, and also about the merits of easily obtained numbing agents, like Orajel.)
They're Invisalign braces rather than wire-and-bracket (which I had for most of middle and high school), which is part of the problem. The number of composite attachments required to be bonded to my teeth in order to exert the necessary forces was far higher than I had been expecting, so that when I take the aligners out to eat, I have a very spiky mouthful of composite that my lips and tongue are doing their best to snag on at every opportunity, and the fact that I can only eat or drink with the aligners out and then need to floss and brush my teeth before replacing them and they need to be in my mouth a minimum of twenty-two hours a day is a huge issue, because I am not the sort of person who can eat one meal in the morning and one meal in the evening and not have my body try to crash on me. The one-meal plan is not a good idea. It's what happens when I am too stressed to feel hunger and have to force myself to treat dinner as a real thing; I associate it with very bad phases of my life. I carry clementines around in winter so that I can snack on them. I buy herbal chai from Porter Square Books because they're one of the few places in the Boston area that serves a chai latte that won't give me a migraine. This week I've been living on cough drops. All of these things are apparently no go for the next year. The dentist even tried to discourage me from drinking tea, telling me an anecdote about his brother who insisted on drinking coffee with his Invisalign in: "Did it affect the treatment?"—"Well, there was the staining . . ." I drink tea like I breathe. It's my major source of hydration in the winter because I am so damn cold all the time. Because my relationship with food is complicated at the best of times, I asked multiple times in advance whether this kind of orthodontics would affect what I could eat. It was perfectly accurate that I was told no, it wouldn't; I didn't realize it was the wrong axis of question. I am actively worried that I will simply stop eating because it's so much trouble. It took an effort to persuade myself to make dinner tonight and by that point I'd been hungry for hours.
And there's just the fact that it fucking hurts, but that I expected. The rest is taking me aback and it's very upsetting.
You win on the extreme jaw surgery front, though. I'm sorry.
I love the bus waiting mermaid best, but that is perhaps because I spent so much of my youth waiting for buses.
If she speaks to you, write her.