I Can't Do This

"I can't do this," I thought, when I heard the news.

Not something else.

Not more bad medical news.

Not another limitation that would change my life.

Not again.

"Hadn't I been through enough,?" I wondered.

Apparently not.

Two years ago I went blind in one eye and was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Six months later, I fell and broke my kneecap, which still hasn't fully healed, even after 17 months and 34 physical therapy sessions.  A few months ago I had a scary trip to the oncologist, as it appeared my MS medication might be killing my liver, but it turned out to be a false alarm. 

Just as my everything seemed to be getting back to normal, I asked my dentist about a little bump I had in my gums, on a spot where I had a root canal 20 years ago.  It turned out I needed immediate surgery (none of which was covered by insurance) to remove my upper front tooth, which had shattered under my gum lines and infected the area around it. The surgeon would then graft some new bone into my jaw so that some day it can support an implant.

I didn't ask from whom they got the extra bone. I think I can imagine. At least I'm not that guy, I suppose.

It's Halloween, so I guess it's appropriate I get the bone fragments of the departed inserted into me. I call it getting into the spirit of the season.

It's not quite as good, from a spirit of the holiday perspective, as having a pumpkin for a head, but I suppose I could look into that if all else fails.  

Jokes aside, it's going to be a long and miserable process.  I won't have a front tooth for seven or eight months, if all goes perfectly.  It will take four months for the newly injected bone from the dead guy to mesh in my jaw.  In the meantime, if I feel dead inside, it won't just be because I'm depressed about missing a front tooth.  After four months, the surgeon will go back in an insert a titanium screw to my jaw bone. 

Three-to-four months after that, when the screw is fully enmeshed into my jaw bone, I will finally get a new tooth implanted into the screw.

In the meantime I have a removable retainer that attaches to the roof of my mouth with a fake tooth on it. The tooth fits into the gap in mouth and it looks just fine, but it's driving me crazy.

It's bulky and super uncomfortable.  It isn't strong enough to bite into anything and it moves around whenever I swallow solid food.  It's basically useless as anything other than a cosmetic device.  I can speak with it in without a slur if I concentrate really hard and talk slowly, but the act of speaking is difficult and exhausting, which isn't ideal for an attorney who argues for a living.

To make matters worse, the doctor forbid me from exercising for the first six days after my surgery, and by day four I couldn't feel my left leg anymore.  I went too long without resisting my MS, and it started to take over.

I went to the gym that night anyway. I'd rather have a working leg than a working jaw bone. These are the choices I have to make these days.

My leg is a little better now, and I don't think I did any further lasting damage to my jaw, but it's going to be a long seven or eight months.  I feel like I'm living in a Whack-a-Mole game, where as soon as I spend too much time dealing with one health issue something else pops up.

I'm not sure I can do this.

There are two good things about my operation, if you look at it a certain way.

First, it's almost Halloween, so I can choose a costume that takes advantage of my missing tooth and have people believe that I really, really committed myself to the bit.  That's absolutely what I'm going to say if anyone asks.

The other good thing is that I didn't have to feel ready for my surgery.  It wasn't like so many other challenges in my life, like a trial or a bar exam, or a half marathon, where you were sure to fail if you didn't come prepared.  All I had to do was show up and hope my someone else had done all the prep to make the surgery go as it should.  I never felt ready for it, and I don't feel ready for a toothless life on the other side.  But sometimes all life asks from us is to show up and rest takes care of itself.

Sometimes that's all we can do.

A friend told me today how resilient I was, but I don't feel that way. I feel broken inside. (I'm broken on the outside too, actually. If I don't have my retainer in, you can see it when I smile.) I just don't know what else to do other than to keep checking off life's obligations, even if I'm not particularly happy about it. I can't just go to sleep and wake up in 8 months, or whenever there is a cure for MS, as much as I would like to.

After I was first diagnosed with MS, I found myself thinking that I couldn't live my life with whatever I was about to face. A voice inside my head that sounds like what I think God sounds like responded back that all I had to do for now was to make it through today. Tomorrow God and I could reconvene to see if we could do it again.

Almost two years later, we're still moving forward, one day at a time. I can't fathom living the next eight months without biting into solid food, constantly feeling uncomfortable, and wondering how on earth I can ever kiss my wife, but I guess I can make it through today.  .

Part of me feels like I'm being melodramatic. I haven't lost a loved one (I liked my front tooth, but I wasn't infatuated), I have a pretty good job and make a comfortable living, which hopefully a missing tooth won't derail.  I get to live in a beautiful little valley full of wine and sunshine, and my MS progression has been so much slower than it might have been.

I'm lucky in so many ways, and I don't mean to take any of that for granted.  But a different part of me feels like I got knocked down two years ago, and I keep getting kicked every time I'm on the verge of getting up. It could be worse, some would say, but that feels hollow because it's true of almost everyone, anywhere. It isn't enough to curb all the unhappiness in this unperfect world.

In "Finding Nemo," Dory the Fish tells herself to "just keep swimming," as a means of moving forward through her ongoing problems by doing whatever small movements were in her power.  I know others who have used this mantra to make it through times more challenging than I can imagine.

But I feel like I'm swimming against the current, and I'm tired. I feel like I need a floatie.

I haven't found one, but I do have a few people to keep me afloat as I struggle with the tide.  The friend who made soup at 5 a.m. and brought it over before I went to work. The one's who've said prayers or words of encouragement. Even the people who've said, "that must really suck," help me remember that I'm not crazy for feeling overwhelmed sometimes.

And let's not forget coffee.  At least I have coffee, which is the next best thing to a floatie of which I know. As of yesterday, my dentist even let me drink it hot again.

I'm in a coffee shop now, looking out at fountains flowing and people laughing on a beautiful day in Livermore. It's nice here.  When I'm done, I think I'm feeling well enough for a little run through my trail in the vineyards. Tonight maybe I'll plan what I want to do for my birthday. Maybe I can finally speak well enough to return some calls.

I really wish I could have a burger for dinner. There's no magic answer to make hard times fly by faster. Life is unfair.

But today still has beauty. Maybe I'll find it on my run, or maybe on my back patio with the fire lit. Or maybe someone will read this whose life feels upside down and feel less alone going through whatever you are going through.

At least for today, I think you can do i
t. Maybe I can do it too.