What’s new pussycats? Day 5… home from the hospital and…
- Still… no one understands me. Not my family. Not my oral surgeon. No matter how much I try to explain, everyone seems to regard me with the wariness of a teenage babysitter.
As part of my speech therapy, i am suffering the indignities of practicing this a dozen or so times a day:
- I continue to resemble the hot love child of Jay and Silent Bob. It could be worse.
- I have scared the shit out of 2 neighbors and 7 unwitting delivery guys.
- I am haunted by really bad dreams about teeth and the dentist–even though one of my best-est friends (whose name is also “Alisa”) is a dentist and I am not at all terrified of her at all.
- I sneezed and nearly killed myself from sheer surprise and cranial reverb.
- I still have no feeling in my lips, but I can now almost close my right eye, which means I look less like a pirate. I’m not sure how I feel about this as I was beginning to think it might actually be working in my favor with boys.
- Most ridiculous: on Tuesday I was so hungry for real food that I tried to eat a hamburger with a straw. “Well, looky there,” said Walter Matthau, eyeballing a remnant chunk of ground beef high in the air between his little dentist’s tweezers.
- I am starting to remember things like waking up in the neurology ward with all the other brain injured people… There being this other epilepsy patient… a 48-ish year old man with blue and white undies. He would never close the back of his gown and he had such a dead pan relish about it… “Yes, these are my briefs and my ass is hairy… deal with it ladies.” All the nurses would roll their eyes when he would shuffle by in his walker. He wore a helmet with a yarmulke pinned on top. it was a little like this…
I am SO glad to be home.
Yesterday was a mega milestone… they removed my head staples. Bride of Frankenstein begone! One of the best things about breaking your face is the swelling–all your wrinkles magically GONE! Suddenly I’m 32 again! Look out!
They also unwired my jaw, and I started to learn how to talk again!! La, la, la… except (as alluded to in the beginning) it didn’t quite go like that.
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again… Even though there are lots of very nice cities out there, NYC is the greatest city on the face of the earth… Why? Because everything is literally right here–most of the time–IN your apartment.
My oral surgeon, Walter Matthau (he really is just the spit!), is a mere 300 yards from my apartment.
I couldn’t have planned it better. You know, you never really think about how many people break their faces, but it turns out, it happens quite a lot. When I wandered into Walter’s for the first time, the entire waiting room was a veritable sea of broken mandibles, noses, orbital sockets and cheek bones. All these lost Picassos…There was nowhere to sit.
And it does feel like your first day at prison, i.e., “What are you in for?” But you can’t ask… Forget politeness or HIPPA… it’s that no one can talk. Everyone’s shut.
Still… I am on the mend, singing this… 10 times a day…the most painful song in all of movie soundtrack history:
“Lots of hard consonants and diphthongs to get things moving girly. Works even on my most difficult cases.” Walter told me…
I may make a video.
Only in New York… xx – gg