Saturday, August 21st
John’s day in the hospital was supposed to include my dentist putting my two front teeth back in place while we wait for the bones to grow in the jaw. He couldn’t do it for a variety of reasons and finally decided to make me some new teeth while we wait. The only issue with this is that the making of the teeth takes more than a week. ‘Will you be alright for ten days or so?’ he said, a little anxiously. I smiled at him, the smile of an old toothless woman. ‘I will be fine’ I said, far more concerned about John and his heart than how I looked or how my mouth felt. My dentist took his drill and took the hard edges off the teeth surrounding the space left by the two missing teeth. ‘That should make your mouth more comfortable’ he smiled.
I am now one of those old women you see in photos of countries far away, of communities that live in distant mountains and people who eat only yoghurt and ride horses across the plains until they are a hundred. High cheek boned with falling faces, as teeth drop out of their mouths. Perhaps I should consider moving to the steppes.
The left side of my body has taken as much as it can. I am not in charge; I am not in control and I give in. John and I looked at each other this morning and he said, ‘I am scared’. I am too, although my brain, that is good at organizing and managing, seems to have stopped working. We have three days to let go, imagine only the best outcome into existence, and enjoy these days together, dropping things, eating beans out of cans for dinner when necessary, and practicing gratitude for our life together
