Your Friend The Jaw
On my mission I rode a bike every single day for 22 months straight, minus 5 or 6 days for minor illnesses. Because of this I learned how to ride without hands very well - I would ride for 10 blocks straight without hands, and if it wasn't for those darned traffic lights I never would have had to put my hands on the handle bars even to stop. I even rode off a 10 inch tall curb without hands - and was rather proud of myself for doing so. Then one day we were late for an appointment - really late - and I rode my bike without hands from the street up onto a curb. I'd successfully navigated this same spot over 90 times without hands - a 100% success rate - but this time I lost control and flew out of my seat from going too fast - so that only my feet were in contact with the bicycle. Thinking quick - I grabbed for the handle bars - accidentally slammed on the front brake - executed a magnificent flip right into the concrete - and broke my jaw.
If I had just fallen off the bike it wouldn't have been so bad - but no - I had to grab for the handle bars and flip into the concrete transferring all my momentum right into my jaw and mouth, breaking 6 or 7 teeth, and my jaw in 3 places.
At the hospital there was a plastic surgeon - in a purple suit coat (not mauve, not burgundy - purple- like a grape Otter Pop) and an orange tie. He kept on trying to convince me to have some procedure done that night where they would cut open my jaw, and put a metal plate on it. My dad (who's a dentist) and my Stake President (who's an orthodontist) insisted that that shouldn't happen.
During the night in the hospital nurses kept on coming in to prep me for surgery, and Elder Gibbons had to keep on telling them, "No - no surgery". It was like the plastic surgeon was a used car salesman who coudln't take no for an answer.
In the morning nurses came in with cheerios. "He can't eat that." "But it's bland food!" "It doesn't matter if it's bland if he can't chew it."
In the end we went to 2 different hospitals, 2 different oral surgeons, a root canal specialist, and a dentist to get all my teeth work done, and over $10,000 of oral surgery & dental work went into my mouth. Since I was on a mission it was all paid for by church insurance.
My jaw was wired shut for 7 weeks. Luckily you can talk with your jaw wired shut, and still ride a bicycle so I was able to go around tracting still. I learned how to say the phrase, "I broke my jaw, and it's wired shut - can you please put my food in the blender?" in spanish (Me fractulé la mandibula - puede ud. poner la comida en la licuadora) for dinner appointments. I also carried around wire clippers in case of vomiting.
In the first week I tried to make a smoothie out of a pizza. Yes - I know - making a pizza smoothie is wrong and disgusting - but let's see YOU try having your jaw wired shut without getting desperate. For Thanksgiving the people we ate dinner with put some turkey and gravy in the blender for me - and honestly - it was one of the best tasting meals I've ever had.
When my jaw was opened back up I had to do stretching exercises where I would force my mouth to open wider with my fingers. I tried to eat a sandwich at a party - a normal sized sandwich - and I couldn't get it in. I had to smash the sandwich with my hands to be able to cram it in there.
From then on every missionary was asked if they were riding their bikes without hands. All because of me and my jaw.
If I had just fallen off the bike it wouldn't have been so bad - but no - I had to grab for the handle bars and flip into the concrete transferring all my momentum right into my jaw and mouth, breaking 6 or 7 teeth, and my jaw in 3 places.
At the hospital there was a plastic surgeon - in a purple suit coat (not mauve, not burgundy - purple- like a grape Otter Pop) and an orange tie. He kept on trying to convince me to have some procedure done that night where they would cut open my jaw, and put a metal plate on it. My dad (who's a dentist) and my Stake President (who's an orthodontist) insisted that that shouldn't happen.
During the night in the hospital nurses kept on coming in to prep me for surgery, and Elder Gibbons had to keep on telling them, "No - no surgery". It was like the plastic surgeon was a used car salesman who coudln't take no for an answer.
In the morning nurses came in with cheerios. "He can't eat that." "But it's bland food!" "It doesn't matter if it's bland if he can't chew it."
In the end we went to 2 different hospitals, 2 different oral surgeons, a root canal specialist, and a dentist to get all my teeth work done, and over $10,000 of oral surgery & dental work went into my mouth. Since I was on a mission it was all paid for by church insurance.
My jaw was wired shut for 7 weeks. Luckily you can talk with your jaw wired shut, and still ride a bicycle so I was able to go around tracting still. I learned how to say the phrase, "I broke my jaw, and it's wired shut - can you please put my food in the blender?" in spanish (Me fractulé la mandibula - puede ud. poner la comida en la licuadora) for dinner appointments. I also carried around wire clippers in case of vomiting.
In the first week I tried to make a smoothie out of a pizza. Yes - I know - making a pizza smoothie is wrong and disgusting - but let's see YOU try having your jaw wired shut without getting desperate. For Thanksgiving the people we ate dinner with put some turkey and gravy in the blender for me - and honestly - it was one of the best tasting meals I've ever had.
When my jaw was opened back up I had to do stretching exercises where I would force my mouth to open wider with my fingers. I tried to eat a sandwich at a party - a normal sized sandwich - and I couldn't get it in. I had to smash the sandwich with my hands to be able to cram it in there.
From then on every missionary was asked if they were riding their bikes without hands. All because of me and my jaw.
posted by CT at 9:19 AM
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