Because I am nonpareil at dental hygiene and less important things like making giant balls of cheap rubber bands and reusing the same piece of tape over and over and over again, two habits which directly correlate to this story because they portray my determination to accomplish mundane tasks with pride and drama, last Thursday I was flossing and trying to get at them pesky back teeth and I totally I dislocated my jaw.
My jaw clicks. It always has. When it clicked open that morning I didn't think much of it, but I did have some flashes of thought like, "I am so awesome at flossing" and "I'll bet my mouth-opening abilities could rival that of the Burmese Python, 20-foot terror of the Asian jungle" and then I tried speaking in Parseltongue and learned that my mouth couldn't close. It hurt like fuck.
I stood there gaping, trying to ease my mouth shut, but I couldn't bite down and it felt like someone lit a hedgehog on fire and wedged it into my temporomandibular joint (Dear Version-2001 of Professor DeWitt: like I said, I don't need your 8:30am anatomy classes for shit and your ponytail is stupid). Sure, I could close my lips and pucker (thank god, with all my daily smooching), but my teeth weren't flush. In fact, the upper row of teeth couldn't meet the lower at all.
But I was late to work, so I just powered through it. Finished the morning routine and fucked around with my jaw for awhile on the bus. My speech was fine, and when I was wiggling my jaw around and just sitting there it didn't hurt at all. But I still sat at my desk for hours and tried to strain my teeth together, massaging my cheek, hoping to grunt things back into place.
This lasted for the better part of the day, until I took my late lunch. I was only two excruciating bites in when dawned on me: I cannot chew this Big Beef n' Cheddar without medical assistance.
After some intense googling, I learned that I could probably force my jaw back into place, and all those silly people on the internet who were all "go to a doctor immediately" were amateurs, because it really wasn't that bad, right? It only hurt when I tried to chew, or like, move. Granted it felt like someone was slowly ripping my ear off - but I wasn't bleeding or swelling or bruising.
So I when to the bathroom I made sure I was alone, because I didn't want anyone watching me abusively magic my jaw back into place. I grabbed my lower mandible, fingers wrapped around my teeth, palm cupping my chin, and opened my mouth as wide as possible, like the queen of the Alien brood, but way scarier because she had my eyes, that bitch.
I breathed deep. It was time. My sandwich was getting cold. I raised my right fist, closed my eyes, counted to twelve (YOU FUCKING SALLY, JUST DO IT ON THREE), yanked my jaw down hard and punched myself in the face, right on the jawline.
And then I screamed.
But a few seconds later I opened my eyes. Wriggled my jaw around, which was pleasantly clicking like normal, and I bit my teeth together, which were clacking like normal. A bit strained, but normal. I traced one finger along my jaw to make sure everything felt right and good, and you know what? I AM THE FUCKING BOSS. My skills as a de-dislocator are legendary. Fucker popped right back into place, just like it was supposed to. Keep that bitch in line with sock to the jaw.
It's been five days, and despite a few raging headaches, everything is hunky dory. My life is perfect. I fucking hate doctors.