I don't dine.
I don't eat.
I don't hardly remember gastronomic joy.
I feed.
Each meal is a titanic struggle of girl versus gravity. And drool.
The first week after surgery, I was using a turkey baster-sized syringe to transport nutrition, medication, and liquids. This required throwing a towel over my shoulder, settling back against an over-sized chair. struggling to find the "Sweet spot" in the side of my mouth between my braces, the splint, my teeth the jaw and my cheek. Next, I try to create a straight line between my mouth and my gullet so that transport is unencumbered. Now, I can start to squeeze the syringe slowly and become one with my meal. . . . . . Ommmmmm.
The sweet spot differs, depending on the viscosity of the liquids. I squirt against my upper teeth for water, more toward the lower teeth for cream soups.
Medication has its own set of challenges, mostly because they come in liquid form. The taste is so nasty as to defy description. I have been prescribed Tylenol 3 and an antibiotic which have been helpfully "flavored" to enhance their being taken. I just about cried every six hours when it came time for the antibiotic, because I wanted to wretch. And the drip-drip-drop syringe delivery made certain I could taste every stomach-curdling drop. And following it with a more flavorful "chaser" was a laugh. Imagine a race of two ninety-five year-olds with walkers, and you have an idea of what we're talking about in terms of speed of relief.
At the One Week Checkup, I was liberated -- somewhat. The bands between my top and lower braces at the very front of my mouth was removed. I am now able to slide a narrow spoon into my mouth and learn to eat all over again! If you ever fed a baby using the time-tested "Airplane" method, then you have an idea of what's in store for you. A small spoonful of food goes into your mouth, and ninety percent of it come right back out as your tongue tries to grab it and slide it across the roof of your mouth toward your throat. At the same time, your salivary glands have kicked into high gear and are coating everything they can find. . . your lips, your chin, the table, your scarf, your slacks. I honestly had no idea I could produce so much spit, and it is uniquely unattractive to behold.