The tooth came out fine, with one big yank, but then I had a feeling of dejá vu when the surgeon looked at my tongue and said he saw some dysplasia on the left border where I already had a piece removed.
The dejá vu is from another dental surgeon two years ago who was removing two teeth and saw signs of what he thought was cancer on my tongue. (Picture me, zonked on Benedryl and Ativan, jumping out of the chair...or wanting to.) I later had surgery to remove a scoop of my tongue; it turned out to be precancerous but something that needed to come out anyway.
Is that going to happen again? Luckily I won't have too much time to gnaw on this (SORRY, I just needed to amuse myself with this awful pun) because Melissa scheduled me for an appointment Monday to see the doctor who is responsible for my tongue. Up to the head and neck oncology department I will go, feeling once again very strange to be there.
I told Margaret about this while she was pruning her garden. I tend to think of all these intrusions on my body as one doctor after another chipping away at me.
Margaret said to think of myself as a plant being pruned so that new healthy flowers or foliage can grow. As I sit here at my kitchen table looking at my garden, I am comforted by that image.
If I am a plant, then I need to be fertilized, and this morning I am having the perfect thing, being sure to chew on the side that doesn't hurt: A piece of Evelyn's freshly-baked blueberry crumb cake, with a side order of fresh blueberries that are melting in my mouth.
1 comment:
I know the feeling. I like your take on the restorative power of food--nicely written!
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