“If I had a nickel anytime a patient made a joke like that, I would be retired to somewhere warm by now. Once the swelling goes down, and you heal for a few days, you should be able to talk a little. Keep your phone or pad and pen handy if it gets too hard. After the wiring comes out, you still won't be able to have anything you need to chew for another three months. You'll be able to have mushy foods, like mashed potatoes, soups, things like that.”
“So it will be six months after the surgery that my life will be completely back to normal? What about work?”
“We'll give you all of the documentation you need to take a medical leave for the initial month after the surgery,so you can rest and recover enough to function well. Are you able to work from home where you'll be more comfort- able and not have to talk as much?”
“Yes, my job is completely work at home unless there is an emergency where I'm needed at the office. I have to talk in meetings usually, but if I speak to my boss and my team, I can write down what I want to say and send it to one of my counterparts that are there to read at the meetings. I can still be on the calls, just quiet, I suppose.”
“We'll have plenty of time to work out everything. It's December 1 now. Between the holidays and all of the prep work that will need to be done, I want to get you on the surgical calendar for early February. When you head out, please schedule a follow up appointment for early January with Kay. We're going to get more molds, more pictures, and work out your pre-surgery testing.”
I swallow hard again, just trying to keep my game face on and be brave in the face of everything I'm taking in. It's that feeling of disassociating and being outside of my body as I say goodbye to Dr. Oren, make my next appointment and settle things with Kay at the front desk, and start the long drive home. This is fine. Everything is fine. I can handle six months of not eating the way I want, and three months of not talking well. What I am starting to panic about is how this will affect me and Taran.
Alarm bells are blaring in my head that this is too much to ask of my boyfriend of barely a few weeks. It'll be three months of him having to watch me eat through a straw, swollen faced and bruised. Another three months of not being able to go out for a real dinner date without worrying what I'll be able to gum down like a teething baby. I'm already not easy to love at my best. This? How will he want to stay with me when I'm going to be like this? All of myinsecurities come roaring back in spite of the work I've done on myself, and the huge strides Taran and I have made. My eyes sting as I spiral, and I just try to concentrate on driving home safely without tears blurring my vision.
When I do make it home safely, my phone pings with a text from Taran as I let Brody out.
Hey pretty Firecracker, how was the appointment? I was thinking of you all day today
I take a deep breath before I type out my reply.
Hey. It was a lot, but at least it's all in motion now
Want to talk about it? I could come over in a bit
Thanks, I'm really tired though. I think I'm just going to relax for a little while and go to bed early. There's a lot to process. Catch up tomorrow?
Definitely. I hope everything is ok. Talk to you tomorrow, beautiful
Chapter 25
Taran
Imay be working, but my mind is miles away. Specifically, it's on the woman who lives just a few miles from where I'm driving right now. It should not be a big deal. Lyra needed space after a hard day, and that's fine. That's normal. We'll catch up in person tonight. This morning we exchanged good morning texts to check in, like we usually do on the mornings we don't wake up together. I can't shake the feeling that something is wrong, though. Even through text, I know her enough by now to know that the way she responded last night and this morning wasn't her usual self. There were no jokes being thrown around, no endearments. It felt like the Lyra I first met with her walls up, and it scares me. I wish we could have talked last night, because whatever is going on to make her distant is killing me. Nothing I can do about it at the moment until I go over after work to talk to her later. So I need to focus. I'm in a pretty neighborhood I like in the morning, where there are a bunch of dogs I get to greet while I make deliveries. My treat jar is on the verge of needing replenishing. The day is going pretty smoothly, and I try to relax while I listen to mydad's playlist. On my lunch break, I turn up the cumbia song that comes on, and dance around the back of my truck like a fool while I tidy up the stacks of packages to shake off the uneasiness I'm feeling. It helps a little, and I feel better going into the afternoon.
At the end of my day, I text Lyra that I'm all done and just need to drop my truck at the hub. She says to come over whenever I'm ready and not much else. I don't even bother to head to my apartment first after I drop my truck. I don't even think of my apartment as home anymore, because the house I'm about to go to has started to feel like such a home to me. I've only been staying over regularly for about two weeks, but the memories we've made there are already so priceless. The way she and Brody greet me so warmly when I get there after work has become my favorite part of my day. We cook and clean up together, take Brody for walks all pink faced from the cold, shower together, make all the love we want, burrow under the covers in the morning all tangled up until we force ourselves to get out of bed. It's the domestic bliss fantasy I had come to life with the most incredible woman I've ever met, and I have the worst twisting in my gut that something happened at her appointment yesterday to ruin it.
When I get to her door, she opens it with a smile, but it's not the full one I've come to love. It's forced and doesn't reach her eyes. Her eyes don't look as bright either, and they're tired, like she had trouble sleeping. I had the same problem last night, sleeping next to her is infinitely better. Whatever is going on, I already hate it just based on the fact that it's clearly making her miserable. My heart plummets, going nicely with the twisting in my stomach.
“Hey, handsome,” she says quietly, getting on her toes to give me a quick, chaste kiss. "Come on in."
“Hi, beautiful. Is everything ok?”
She takes a deep breath and shakes her head, and my heart plummets further. "Let's talk," she says, with a sad look in her eyes.
I take my own deep breath. That never precedes anything good. Why do I feel like I'm about to attend my own execution? Brody comes bounding up to see me, and I pull my usual treat for him out of my pocket. He takes off to go lie down in his bed to enjoy it.
“I’ve got to be honest, you're freaking me out a little. What's wrong, Firecracker? What happened at the appointment?”
We sit at the kitchen table, and she grasps my hand while I watch her, clearly collecting her thoughts and carefully choosing her words.
“The surgery is going to be much, much more involved than I originally thought. I've had palate expansions several times, and they took maybe a couple of hours. I was home and feeling ok enough to function the same day, and pain free within a few of days. I thought it would be like that, because I'm an idiot who has no concept of how bad my jaw currently is.”
“You're not an idiot, stop that. So what will the surgery look like? How involved is it?”
She shudders involuntarily, and takes her hand away to push her curls behind her ear in a nervous gesture. I miss the contact immediately and have to restrain myself from snatching it back. Then she gets up from the table and starts pacing, so I get up with her and lean on the counter, itching to touch her. I'm so on edge waiting for her to answer me I'm practically vibrating.
“Dr. Oren basically has to take my entire jaw apart and put it back together with screws and titanium reinforcement.It will take him roughly 11 hours to complete and I'll be at White Plains hospital for a week afterward.”
Now I'm the one trying valiantly not to shudder. The idea of my Firecracker having to go through an 11 hour surgery is making my chest constrict. I try to be as reassuring as I can, but I know words can only do so much. It'll be nerve wracking until she is safely through the surgery. Images of my dad in his hospital bed, barely able to move, flash across my mind. Then they’re replaced with a motionless Lyra in a hospital bed, and the shudder is begging to happen. I keep myself together though, and try to move past it.
