Hello Steemit! The slightly anticipated Part 3 of 3 of my story is finally here. Enjoy

10,000 Dollar Smile

The Chronicles of My Face, From the Nose Down

For anyone interested in this whole story, It is split into three parts. Links to the first two parts (for anyone interested) are below:

Part 1 of 3

Part 2 of 3

Part 3 of 3

Chapter 3: Fad Diets Have Nothing on Me

Memorial day weekend is a cherished holiday. For someone like me at the time, it was a coveted three day weekend away from the J-O-B that held my time and attention for the better part of 5 days out of the week. Being relatively fresh out of college, I had been treating my work schedule as the vacation between my weekends.

“College isn’t over till I say its over” was the mantra that rattled off my tongue.

However, I had started to feel the repercussions of having weekends, and weekdays, full of non-stop nights out. No matter, I had not quite given into the hangover apprehension that had awakened in me prior to the weekends, and thus, I was planning to revel in the Memorial day holiday weekend.

It was Sunday night, which meant Monday off. The plan was relatively tame, but given the right company and a few libations, a tame start typically led to a post 2-am saunter back to Metro Midtown (the apartments in which I lived at the time). The crowd was Karen, Jeff, Chris and me, all meeting at Jeff’s apartment who lived a few doors down from me at Metro. We shot the shit for a few minutes, mostly conjecturing about Texas sports and anything interesting or funny that we’d seen on TV or YouTube. After a couple of beers, we decided to kick off a drinking game idea that we seemed like a grand idea prior to hitting the bars.

This era in my life had many drinking games come and go; but the one we played tonight is simply called “dice,” or at least that’s how I remember it. The rules, in summary are like this: If you get a 7, 11, or doubles, you can challenge a person. A person getting challenged drinks some amount of beer until you roll a 7, 11, or doubles again. If they don’t finish, do-over, if they do, the dice go to the next player. This game met my standards for a successful party drinking game for two reasons.

1. It kept everyone involved by making those not drinking or rolling able to “steal” a drink if they thought they could catch someone off-guard. This was done by just grabbing the drink prior to the drinker – which was usually followed by loud noises and some spilled beer.
2. It required speed, which begets excitement, enthusiasm, and most of all mistakes which always leads to laughing and good cheer.

If a drinking game has these two things, not only will you have a good time, you likely shouldn’t drive home after (or in my case walk out -, but we’re not quite there yet). Games that don’t have these two things, albeit fun, will likely not be good for a party atmosphere.** I immediately think of games like “beer pong” and “caps” to name a couple, simply because they separate the players and their excitement from the party itself.

But, I digress. After a number of rounds of dice our group began the stroll to Pub Fiction, which at the time was a very popular bar in the heart of midtown. It was not more than a 5 minute walk from Jeff or my apartment so no one was too worried about what could happen between our spot at the dice table and the bar at Pub Fiction.

As we are about to cross the street to our final destination, a red Honda screeches around the corner pushing 60 mph. The posted rate is about 35 mph; but what upset me was that whomever was driving nearly hit us and definitely did not bother to slow down. In my tipsy confidence and anger, I belted out

“SLOW THE F*CK DOWN!”

Mistake. At this point my friends had wandered a little further almost reaching the bar entrance, while I meandered near the street turn-in as I watched the red Honda with confusion and curiosity. The car had almost immediately stopped and swung a hard left into the parking lot of Pub Fiction. I stood watching with my hands out as if to say “What the hell?” and an inquisitive look on my face. In disbelief I watch as a large black guy in white wife-beater jumps out of the driver side and quickly waddles towards me. I only say waddles because his pants were sagging beyond the point of street credit which gave his walk a sort of penguin-like manifest thereby keeping him from having to hold his own pants up. I don’t mean waddles in the sense that he was overweight, as he seemed pretty fit at the time, but alas, maybe I’m just making up excuses for myself. Oh well.

Almost no words were spoken as the thug approached me. As soon as I was within arm’s reach of this guy, I hear him utter one sentence.

“[mutter mutter]… white boy talkin’ shit…”

BAM.

Lights flicker in my head. He had landed a right-handed haymaker on the left side of my jaw and knocked me down to a dazed kneel. As I struggled to stand back up, he let another one fly and this time lights go out. I was out for a few seconds. The next thing I remember is the shadowy form of the son-of-a-bitch who just hit me sprinting back to his car and my friends running to me while they try and get a license plate of the car as it sped off.

I sat outside pub fiction in a sobered-up, yet recently knocked out daze and let my friends decide what to do next. I was complaining that my jaw hurt pretty bad and Chris, who had recently started medical school, happened to know someone there who was a 3rd year. The older med student did a quick examination and said my jaw did not feel broken and he thought I would be all right… In retrospect, that’s why med students are indeed still students, but to his credit, he said he couldn’t really tell and advised me to check it in the morning, and potentially go to a practicing doctor.

From this point, someone had called the police and although I didn’t have a very good feel for time elapsed after getting popped, it didn’t seem like it had been too long before a squad car arrived. This is the moment in which I developed an entirely new lack of respect for Houston’s finest. My friends explained the situation to the squad car officers and as they looked at me their only retort at seeing my dazed state was,

“Don’t let your friend get so drunk next time.”

Absurd. How the hell did they expect a person who just got knocked out (and with a broken jaw – albeit we didn’t know that at the time) to behave. I was acting a little “off,” a little “woozy” perhaps?. I did seem a little drunk, because I had just been knocked out. But seriously, these cops may as well be decorated as the most useless pieces of shit I’ve ever seen. We had a description of the car and the suspect. We had the last 3 characters of the license plate, and multiple eye-witness accounts of what happened. What did the police do? They didn’t file a report. They didn’t question me or anyone else. They laughed and remarked about how I seemed drunk. Right. I was. Punch-drunk. I understand these morons were busy eating donuts and giving tickets to people going 6 over the speed limit, but if there is an actual assault case, you would think they would show a little more interest if for nothing else, it may not be as boring as traffic stops. HPD - Whether you like it or not, you hired idiots. No wonder the city is going bankrupt.

After the morons left, I was not exactly feeling like being in the bar scene for the remainder of the night so I decided I would walk home. Karen, knowing it was a short walk for me, decided to remain at Pub Fiction and keep her night going. Chris hopped on board with her while Jeff and I decided to head back. I think that Chris and Karen’s decision, on paper, may look a little callous, however, it made sense to me and for the record, there’s a good chance I would have done similar. I (as I mentioned earlier) am as big a fan of not wasting a weekend night as anyone. Jeff and I reached my apartment and as I sat on my couch I sipped a glass of scotch and tenderly prodded at my sore jaw. Bryce, my roommate was home and we all talked about the event a little and I decided I would deal with anything that came up in the morning and to just go to sleep.

I awoke with an unbelievable amount of pain on the left side of my face. I got out of bed and moved to the bathroom to try and take some ibuprofen. The label said “recommended dose – two tablets” … so I took four. Well I started to take them at least, when I realized I could barely move my mouth and ended just propping my head back and spilling water all over myself in my attempts to get the medicine down. At this point I looked in the mirror. The left side of my face had the shape of a base-ball. I almost could not believe the swelling, except the level of pain that went with it removed all doubt.

**I winced as I crawled out into my living room where my roommate looked up at me from the couch.

“Holy Shit” Bryce uttered.

He had been in the apartment that night when we talked about the event, but neither him nor I expected my face to look like it had a tumor growing out of it. I crumpled onto the couch in pain and pondered what to do. Jeff called a bit later to check on me and see if I wanted to get some food. I was hungry, so I agreed to take a trip with him to Kolache factory, which was our favorite breakfast on any morning after a few drinks. On a side note, if you have not tried the ranchero kolache from Kolache Factory I highly suggest it. It is incredible, although not a typical kolache, it’s a sausage, scrambled egg, and salsa mix, and it can literally make your day better – if you can eat it that is.

Me, I could not eat it. I could not open my mouth enough to take a bite of it. After tearing off a bite, I could not move my mouth enough to chew or swallow any part of it. This is a problem I thought to myself, and started to wonder just how injured I actually was. Jeff and I arrived back at my apartment and went over the nights events. I gave away the kolaches I bought for myself after a little more staring at them.

The remainder of the day went by slowly for me. I did not eat anything and my diet for the day consisted of water, Advil, and a healthy dose of on-demand television. By the time the evening came around, I had decided I needed to talk to someone and probably see a doctor. I telephoned my father who is a doctor in the northern part of Houston to let him know what happened and see if he had any ideas. Fortunately, he knew an oral surgeon relatively close that could work me in for an appointment that Tuesday (the following day).

At the oral surgeon’s office they did a few x-rays and set me down and showed me exactly what I did not want to see. My jaw was broken in two places, and although it was not a terrible break, broken none the less. My sentence was to have my jaw wired shut for a period of three to four weeks to let the bones heal, and then see what happens after that. A few days later I was entered into surgery and when I returned to work, I was wired shut with a mouth full of metal.

The people at work were nice enough when I returned. This excludes Karen and a few others, who, seeing the humor in the situation, decided to get me a card. The card that was sitting on my desk when I came back into work showed a picture of lemons and said on the front

“When life gives you lemons…”
On the inside it said something along the lines of
“you make lemonade,”

but that wasn’t the part to which I was paying attention. I was reading the handwritten inscription that said

“or you get punched in the face and have to have your jaw wired shut for 4 weeks like a pussy.”

Aww, jeez, thanks guys I thought with a snicker. But, this snicker turned into a laugh, and every time I laughed my recently wired together jaw shuddered and caused a few shots of pain to radiate through me. Seeing me wince, those standing around me also began to laugh which of course led to the chain reaction of me laughing more and more wincing and so on and so forth.

Appreciating the humor, but not the pain, I managed to sit down and clear most of the crowd out of my office. I opened my email, in an attempt to get back to work, but Oh!

To my chagrin, I had an E-card waiting for me as well. This one was a little more to the point, as on the E-Card it simply and boldly said

“Sorry you’re feeling like such a pussy.”

Awesome. More laughter, more pain, this little jaw wired shut experience wasn’t going to be easy.

**For anyone that’s had their jaw wired shut, the first problem that shows up is the obvious what. What do I eat? In my first seven days (counting the time I just didn’t eat because my jaw hurt so bad) I dropped 10 pounds. And so I had to figure out a way to ingest some calories.

My diet after that consisted of Muscle Milk, Ensure, Smoothie King, and soup. The first three were easy enough. Just drink up and go on about your life. The soup presented more of a challenge. For any soup other than straight broth, there was a process that came with it. One item my mother got me was a Magic Bullet, which is basically a single serving blender. This came in handy and most of my soup recipes over the next six weeks (my original 4 week sentence got extended due to bad behavior). So, here’s a taste of what I had to do, to taste, during my wonderful little no-chewing interim. Below is a transcript of an email I sent to my family after I had mastered the art of “liquefying” things to my satisfaction.

Family,

I am doing well and currently sitting at about 177 lbs. That is quite a bit less than my original weight of 202 lbs. I haven't "blown away" yet but that is most likely because I have not been subjected to any higher than average winds. I'd imagine if I were, I would float away.

I have mastered the art of eating soups and other potential liquid items.

1. Heat soup / item in pan or in microwave until it is "cooked" or hot enough to eat.
2. Pour hot soup in blender (add vitamin D for healing)
3. Blend - start on slow and work up to the fastest setting. This is not necessary however it does help keep the blender clean. Considering the amount of uses I’m getting this little tip is helpful. If you start it on fast initially all the contents pop up and hit the lid (potentially extremely messy).
4. Pour blended meal into a 4" strainer that resides over a bowl.
   Although the soup is very much bisque at this point the strainer is a key element. All the food that is caught in the strainer would have otherwise ended up caught in the metal wires and rubber bands attached to my jaw. That is very annoying and makes eating even less enjoyable than it already is.
5. Set strained soup to the side and add the contents of the strainer back to the blender with what is about half the soup. (I say half because the first pour into the strainer can usually only get through about half the soup until it is clogged up.)
6. Re-blend the leftovers to maximize calories attained from the soup.
7. Strain again into soup bowl.
8. Eat the soup - make sure you have a napkin because licking the lips is impossible. This was learned quickly after a messy bowl of soup or two.
9. Repeat as necessary until full, annoyed, or tired - whichever comes first.
10. Clean up - blender, pan, bowl, spoon, trash - chances are I'm using this again soon so going through the dishwasher becomes irrelevant. Mostly hand washing.

Of course I lost weight, this much effort for a bowl of soup…

My life while my jaw was broken consisted of three things. First, I would run or work out nearly every day. This probably had something to do with my large amount of weight loss, but the truth was, that it made me feel a lot better and got me tired enough to go to bed without much food in my stomach. Running was one of the only places I didn’t have to smell food or make a feeble attempt at communication, and so I took it up as a hobby.

The second activity was work. I obviously stayed at my office working as late as I could muster, much of the time just because there wasn’t all that much else I could do.

The last hobby I took up, was World of Warcraft or WOW to most who have heard of it. This hobby (although I was not that proud of it) was perfect. In the time between working out and work, watching TV got boring and this game was the perfect escape. Talking was typing, and an extra bonus was my character could eat as much as he wanted. Lucky guy. Regardless of how addictive this game is to some people, I have to extend at least some thanks to it, because having that little escape for 6 weeks helped to keep my mind off all the things I couldn’t exactly partake in while I was injured. Don’t get me wrong, I tried. I went out a few times, and tried to join my friends at parties and bars, but those places are loud, and most the time I couldn’t open my mouth enough for anyone to understand me. So, sure enough, I would revert to WOW and working out to work me through the weeks.

In the six weeks that I was wired shut, I lost about forty pounds. To speak to that, I started the process at about 202 pounds and finished at about 162. Over the next year, I gained about 15 back and ended at about 175 which is where I sit today. People often ask me if it was worth it to lose the weight and how lucky I was to have such a good weight loss plan. I usually laugh and stare at these people in disbelief. “Try it” I say. Its awful. I usually tell them how my jaw still clicks when it rains or gets cold and will most likely result in TMJ as I get older, but if they would like, we could probably arrange something similar to my experience.

Another question I get asked a lot is why I never pursued the person who jacked me in the first place. The best answer I could come up with is that I was a little embarrassed about the whole situation and was really just trying to put it behind me. I certainly could have put a lot more effort into finding the culprit who hit me, and certainly could have looked to legal action against Pub Fiction potentially since it was in their parking lot. I wasn’t feeling up to it. As I said, right or wrong decision, I just wanted to get through the whole thing, get passed it, and get on with my life. That’s what happened, and I haven’t really looked back (minus having to tell this story hundreds of times).

Chapter 4: “Full-Circle”

And so, there are the three main traumatic events that have required a seemingly endless amount of dental work. One day I may check my records to try and determine just how much work these injuries accounted for. The list of work goes something like this, chronologically…

1.  Bowling Ball to the face
   

a. Emergency room trip
b. Dentist trip – Apply Tooth Cast
c. Dentist Trip – remove tooth cast, get impressions and temporary crowns
d. Dentist Trip – remove temporary crowns, get permanent crowns
e. 5 years later… crowns begin to break
f. Dentist Trip – Tooth root is receding – diagnose need for implant and patch crown.
g. Oral Surgeon Trip – Implant consultation and scheduling.
h. Dentist trip – take impressions for “flipper” which is the interim tooth used prior to implant after removal of tooth.
i. Dentist trip – cut off old crowns, use temporary crown for good tooth.
j. Oral surgeon trip – Surgery – removal of tooth, and apply flipper
k. Oral surgeon trip – Follow up, check progress of healing and schedule next surgery
l. Oral surgeon trip – Surgery – set implant and allow to heal.
m. Dentist trip – get permanent crowns for both implant and good tooth

1.  Softball to the face
   

a. Emergency room trip
b. Oral surgeon trip – Diagnose problem
c. Oral surgeon trip – Apply wire bar and tooth cast
d. Oral surgeon trip – Remove wire bar and tooth cast
e. Dentist trip – consult about lower teeth – diagnose need for root canals.
f. Endodontist trip – Root canal consultation
g. Endodontist trip – Root canals on two broken teeth
h. Endodontist trip – Root canal plugs to complete procedure.

1.  Fist to the face.
   

a. Oral surgeon trip – x-rays and consultation
b. Oral surgeon Trip – Surgery –wire jaw shut
c. Oral surgeon trip – 2 week follow up
d. Oral Surgeon trip – 2 week follow up – raise time to 6 weeks total
e. Oral surgeon trip – final two week follow up – wire removal – must sleep with rubber bands
f. Oral Surgeon trip – Surgery – Actual final follow up – remove wires completely – home free.

Clearly it’s been a process. I’ve had a lot of work done, and I write this story after completing the first of 2 surgeries from the bowling ball incident that come with getting a tooth implant. The process has been arduous, but it certainly makes an interesting read. I don’t know if there is a lesson from all this, but at very least it gives a little perspective for those that have been lucky enough to avoid mouth doctors. With that said, I’d like to thank all the doctors that have gotten a chance to work on me, as I’m sure they thank me as a repeat customer. This includes Dr. Ryder (Dentist), Dr. Mulherin (Oral Surgeon), Dr. Clark (Oral Surgeon), Dr. Voorhees (Oral Surgeon), and Dr. Selden (Endodontist). I also owe my parents a debt, and a debt of gratitude, as some of the financials needed for my operations weren’t exactly within my reach at the time of the incidents. Thanks Mom and Pop.

I haven’t had a fourth mouth related injury as of yet, and I knock on wood and cross my fingers that I won’t. My dental bills are already astronomically silly and it’s safe to say that I literally own a 10,000$ smile.

So cheers to the future; and remember, next time you get a cavity, need a crown, or have some other minor dental procedure, remember that it could definitely be worse.