I was supposed to be getting jaw surgery today. A LeFort I Osteotomy, which would correct my upper jaw, and (hopefully) relieve me of jaw pain that gets so bad sometimes that I'm afraid my head will just explode right then and there out of sheer agony. I am obviously not getting the surgery today due to a number of reasons that are entirely not my fault, but for reasons that I keep blaming on myself, anyway.
My insurance didn't come through, which isn't a huge surprise given that my surgeon's office sent the request in right before a holiday. We planned this surgical date on October 18th, though. After years of waiting for this, I scheduled this date in good faith that a month and a half would be enough time for them to secure the operating room, contact my insurance, jump through hoops the insurance would probably put us through, and then I thought we would finally get this DONE.
So, to be exact, I have been waiting for the go ahead to get this done for two years. I have been through no less than three insurance providers in the course of my waiting. Unfortunately, fate timed this date such that when it was scheduled I would be covered by an insurance company that is not local, and thus does not operate under Massachusetts code, and thus has been a huge pain in my ass - repeatedly and for every variety of medical care I've ever needed. In the meantime, my jaw pain has progressed, and sometimes I wake up and it's locked up so tightly that I have to use a heating pack on my face. So that I can eat. Or, you know, function.
I have been in braces for almost three years now. The braces haven't really been doing much; my teeth haven't moved in the last two years. The worst part about having braces as an adult is...well, having braces as an adult. I know I'm the only one who matters that even notices them as a negative thing. Both my boyfriend and my best friend have repeatedly told me that the braces aren't even a fraction of a thought on people's minds, but they are still all I can think about when I'm meeting someone for the first time, or smiling, or laughing. Or looking into a mirror.
I am fine, really. I was fine in Minnesota, when I didn't have to think about it, and I'm fine now, even though I am so ridiculously confused and sad and disoriented. I hate whoever it was, whatever collection of events it was, that caused me to have to take back all of the paperwork only to have to do it again sometime soon. Whatever caused me to have to cancel my mother's $800 flight and several hundred dollar rental car because I will need her here when I get my surgery and we can't just spend $1000 every time we get dicked around. I hate that I was forced to rent a zipcar for the purpose of rushing some dental molds to an office in another city, only to find out that it didn't matter, anymore - and then get an icing-on-the-cake parking ticket from the good old city of Somerville.
I am so bummed. And queasy, and tired. I don't know why I'm queasy, but I am. I have been since I found out that my surgery date was going to come and go, and I wasn't going to be able to do a thing about it. It's hard to take out anger on the source when there really isn't one.
I think it's about time to finally start throwing bricks at cars that don't stop at stop lights or yield to my bike when I have the right of way. I mean, the anger has to go somewhere. I can't just keep it inside!