Yo-Yo

To say I’m overwhelmed tonight is an understatement.

Almost six weeks post-accident, I had yet another dental consult this afternoon, referred by the oral surgeon to assess my progress. He had all of the reports and X-rays from my previous assessments and consultations, so he came into the appointment already having a pretty good understanding of what I’ve been through.

He took a whole bunch of new X-rays and then walked me through a whole bunch of possible scenarios. There is still so much that they simply don’t know yet.

I have to say, though, that he, his assistant, and his receptionist were incredibly caring, compassionate, and patient with me. They took the time to explain things, answer my questions, and help ease some of the anxiety that comes with me sitting in that chair.

My one hope for today’s appointment was that, somehow, the wire holding my teeth in place would finally be removed.

That wasn’t even an option. 😩

Instead, he is referring me to a colleague of his who specializes in working with patients who have experienced dental trauma. The next step is to determine whether the nerves in my damaged teeth and gums are still “functional and viable”, as well as to assess how much my teeth have shifted and whether that could cause further disruption to my healing.

Before I had even left my nearly two-hour appointment, his office had already reached out to the referring clinic to discuss my case. I was told to expect a call tomorrow to schedule that consultation. From there, I’ll eventually return to this dentist and the oral surgeon again.

And so the journey continues.

I feel like a yo-yo right now being sent from one specialist to another, having more X-rays, more assessments, more questions, and still very few answers.

At the same time, I am incredibly grateful for the caution and care everyone is taking. I know this is complicated. I know my situation is delicate. And as frustrating as it is to still be in limbo, I would much rather have them take their time and make the right decisions than rush into something that could jeopardize my healing.

But knowing that there is still a very long road ahead of me is hard to hear.

Right now, I’m not in a good headspace. The uncertainty is exhausting enough, but the recurring nightmares that play out in my head, day and night, make it incredibly difficult to escape what happened.

And honestly, tonight I’m feeling pretty defeated.

But as I sit here trying to process yet another appointment, another referral, another specialist, and still so many unanswered questions, I’m telling myself that I don’t have to have all the answers tonight.

And also tonight, as the world mourns the deep loss of Dolly Parton earlier today, a true legend, I am feeling a great sadness for this incredible loss myself. I keep thinking about a quote I once heard from her:

“Smile, it increases your face value.”

It’s such a simple quote, but tonight it hits me differently.

For almost six weeks, I’ve been struggling to recognize my own face. I’ve been embarrassed to smile. I’ve avoided looking in the mirror. I’ve worried about what my smile will look like when all of this is finally over.

But maybe my smile has never really been about my teeth.

Maybe it’s about everything behind it.

The strength it takes to keep going when I’m exhausted. The courage it takes to show up for appointment after appointment when I’m scared of what I might hear. The people who have held me up when I couldn’t hold myself up. And the little moments of joy that still manage to find their way through all of this pain.

My smile may look different right now.

It may be a long time before I know what my actual smile will look like again.

But I refuse to let this accident take away the part of me that still wants to smile.

So tonight, I’m holding onto Dolly’s words.

Because maybe “face value” isn’t about what we see in the mirror at all.

Maybe it’s about the value we continue to find in ourselves, even when life has changed the way we look at everything.

Rest easy, Dolly. ❤️

And thank you for the reminder to keep smiling, even when it hurts.