I HAD A DREAM LAST NIGHT

I wrote this when I was out to sea a few years back...

I woke up from a dream tonight where I was scrubbed up in full medical garb, standing over a patient in a dentist's chair.  I seldom ever remember my dreams, but this one stood out.  The patient was in terrible pain, and it was my job to extract a molar for him.  I suppose in reality, the procedure he would really need would be a root canal, but I say that now with the full benefit of my cognitive ability.  At any rate, in my dream I was going to help this guy by extracting his tooth.  It wasn't coming out like I thought it should, so I knew I was going to have to break it into a few smaller pieces and then pull those pieces out.  I got my chisel and tapped it gently with a dental mallet.  Incidentally, I can't recall ever anesthetizing the patient, but he was definitely in discomfort - as was I.  For some reason I found myself under incredible stress.  In fact, there was something happening with me where I could no longer continue the procedure.  I set my tools down, took off my latex gloves, and said to the patient, "Excuse me for a second."  I reached into my own mouth and started to remove my own molar, which didn't seem at all strange to me in my slumber.  In fact, it didn't even hurt, it just seemed like there was a problem with this tooth and it needed to come out.  What I did find strange was that as I was effortlessly pulling my second molar out, my first molar was also in need of extraction as it too was wriggling out of its socket.  This one hurt slightly, but only in an aggravating way, the way a hangnail might feel as you tear it out.  But I found myself presently with my right hand still in my mouth, fingers pinched around both teeth - and only slightly disturbed - and in one swift motion, took both molars out of my own mouth and came out with them in my bare palm.  I stared at them curiously, looked up at my petrified patient, shrugged, set my own molars on the tray next to the spittoon, put my gloves back on and went back to work on my patient.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.  Tap.

Smirk

January, 2012.  He found himself in Virginia.  He had woken up with only two hours of sleep.  There was a slight flutter in his left eye.  Google told him this was Myokymia.  He had been working over 100 hours a week at three jobs.  Wikipedia told him that Myokymia is triggered by stress, fatigue, caffeine or alcohol.  He was mainly a Sailor in the Navy.  He had to work so much because after the divorce, he had $63,000 in debt and had to pay the rent on his new shoebox of an apartment in addition to the mortgage on the home he no longer lived in.  WebMD told him that in most cases the condition is benign and ceases of its own accord.  They did.  He also delivered Pizza.  He kept working.  He also professionally cleaned up homes after contractors renovated them.  He kept drinking coffee.  He still tried to live his life existentially, completely in the moment.  He was about to retire in just over 2 years and had to pay that debt off.  He was neither too focused on the past nor too obsessed over the future.  He kept peeling himself out of bed with the aid of at least three alarm clocks strategically set and placed in various places in his apartment so he would have no choice but to get up and deal with them.  There are few other ways to wake yourself up from less than 4 hours of sleep every night.  He just put his head down and charged ahead through the tunnel.  He kept smoking cigarettes.  He kept going on like this.  He used to have time to meditate.  By March, the lawyers were all paid off.  He used to have time to go out for drinks.  By April, he had paid off two other pesky credit debts that did not really belong to him.  He used to have time to read.  By May, he only needed to work two jobs, and he had some time for a new girlfriend.  He was able to begin compartmentalizing his life into smaller chunks so they would be easier to deal with.  By June he had saved up enough money to pay for his son's day care for the summer that he would have him.  By the middle of August, he took his son back and increased his hours at his second job.  By October, he had paid off some significant debt, but also realized that he gained 20 pounds from never having time to work out.  By November he failed his physical fitness test at work and had to come in two hours early every day for mandatory physical training.  He felt like this was all killing him.  By December, he saved enough money for his Christmas trip with his son. 

By January, he was back to work.  His $63,000 of debt was by now only $53,000.  By February, he moved into a better apartment with his girlfriend.  By March, they were settled in.  By April, his girlfriend was in a head on collision, found out she was pregnant with twins, and became his wife.  He was in shock, but awoke from the shock overjoyed.  He quit smoking, he started running again, he lost the weight.  He had a second chance at being a husband, at being a father.  It had been so long.  His divorce made him think he would never have this again.  Would never want it.  He was reborn.  By May, he only had one year left before his retirement from the Navy.  He would have a whole new life. 

His wife noticed that his lower left lip was twitching.  He blew it off as being related to the eye twitching and the constant stress that his life had always been in the last few years.  The next day, he looked in the mirror and the whole side of his face was contorted, stretched back as if being pulled up and back from his ear.  His wife rushed him to the hospital.  He looked like one side of his face was smiling and the other was not.  He thought he might be having a stroke.  He was not.  The name of the disorder is Hemifacial Spasm.  They gave him Ativan.  It affects .08 per 100,000 people.  He took the pills and they calmed his stress level and made him sleepy all the time.  He went back to work.  The internet told him that it was painless, he knew that there was more to it than that.  No sir, I'm not smirking, I have a neuromuscular condition which freezes my face this way.  One way they fix this is by using injections of Botox.  His eye twitched all day now.  Isn't Botox just rat poison?  The muscle that pulled his lip up was sore from all the twitching.  The same way you can get sore from laughing too much at a comedian or a movie.  The Botox injections aren't even a permanent solution, you have to get the shots every 3 to 6 months for the rest of your life, because it never ceases of its own accord.  He would dribble when he drinks his coffee.  The other option was brain surgery.  He would wake up with his eye crusty from it tearing up during his sleep.  They cut into to the skull about an inch behind the ear and place a sponge between what is usually the offending artery and the nerve that it puts pressure on.  His peripheral vision was affected, and he felt as though this affected his balance as well.  His wife did not like the option of surgery.  Psychologically, he was embarrassed by the way this looked.  To the point he did not want to be photographed.  He did not like the idea of injecting poison into his brain every 3 to 6 months.  Somewhat reclused.  By June, his $63,000 of debt was now down to $45,000 and he was on his way to Florida to pick up his son for the summer.  Will he be able to suppress his anxiety enough to protect his son from it during their summer together?  So much more at stake.  So much more risk.  The potential for so much more reward.  But will he be able to keep it up?  Will he be able to keep his second job if he has surgery and needs time off to recover?  Will he recover from it early enough to be an energetic father to his twins?  Energetic enough to be a good husband?  So much ahead.  What will happen?