I will freely admit (on here, where no one has to respond) that I’m having difficulty managing this facial pain. I’ve been battling this latest bout of TMJ since the first week of December 2018, when it returned with a vengeance the day after I came out of the operating room for work on my kidney. Man, that was 4 1/2 months ago.
It began as a stinging sensation in the center of my face (like a mild sock to the nose) and has steadily gotten worse. I get to sleep at night by wrapping my face in ice until it’s achy-numb, than getting into bed & laying flat on my back.
You’re so worn out from the day you usually fall asleep pretty quickly.
But right before I conk out, I have a hopeful thought: “Maybe I’ll wake up in the morning and it’ll be all gone, like Marcia Brady and her swollen nose.” I am the eternal optimist.
If you’re a regular visitor to this blog, you might be doing a little scoffing right now, but it’s the truth. I’m a glass half-full guy and here’s why:
1. At least I can afford it. If I had to work right now, I’d be in big trouble—because the truth is, there’s no way I could while dealing with this. And what if I had no savings, or had a family to take care of, or a kid in college or a wife who relied on my job’s health insurance? At least I’m not causing others distress.as well..
2. I believe it will get better. This jaw curse first struck in July 2016 and sent me into an absolute panic; it was a miserable existence that went on for over 7 months. But it DID begin getting better by March, and by the summer of 2017 I was looking at the box of TMJ stuff under my bathroom sink (pills, creams, oral splints) and debating tossing it. (I’m glad now I didn’t..) It returned in December 2017, but was more manageable and lasted all of 3 months. If it’s gone away twice before… third time’s a charm, right?
3. I can’t talk about it, but I can still write about it. I mean that literally—it hurts too much to say more than a couple sentences aloud, and forget stuff like yawning or smiling. I’m sure all of this is a lousy read, but having a space like my blog to get this stuff off my chest helps a lot.
4. I have the right mindset for it. I’m not trying to sound like a martyr here, but if anyone in my world HAS to have this… TMJ is a hermit thing. You can’t socialize or live a normal life while it’s going on. And it’s not like the flu where you’re miserable now, but know you’ll be all better in 1-2 weeks. So… when it comes to solitary confinement, I’m an old pro.
5. Misery loves company… not on my watch. A few nights ago I visited a TMJ forum (to see if there’s been any advances in treatment since my first bout with this) and noticed this little gem:
“I don’t have tmj, but some years back I come home from work and my neighbor is in his backyard smoking a cigarette. I thought he quit them a long time ago. I asked him if anything was wrong, he said the doctor told him there’s nothing more they can do for his TMJ. He shot himself in the head that week. People don’t die from pain, they die attempting to stop pain.”
If this fella doesn’t suffer from tmj, why was he on a TMJ forum? Anyway, I know they say misery loves company— I sure don’t. I’m reminded of that scene in Mel Brook’s History of the World Pt.1 where starving peasants are pleading to one another in the streets—“FEED ME!!” and a filthy Cloris Leachman is off to the side looking disgusted: “Look what we’ve become—beggars begging beggars!”
That’s what it feels like when you share your story with other TMJ sufferers. Aren’t there former TMJ sufferers to provide tips or encouragement? For the most part, no. I’ve read 1-2 pieces that give me hope, but the bulk of them cause heartbreak for them (and worry for myself). I can’t hold anything against former sufferers who go on their merry way… I know the first time mine first went away, I had no answers. And the last thing I wanted to do was go back to those forums and be reminded of it.
If you made it to the end here… thanks for letting me share. I’m sure things will be better real soon.
