It was uncomfortable. Then there was an itch on my nose, which I couldn’t scratch. Those hands were in the way. They have been the cause of the discomfort for a while now – over an hour. They were pressing into my face. They held tools which they shoved in and out of my mouth as they violated tooth after tooth. Occasionally more hands would press down as the first pair exerted more pressure in their acts of violating my teeth.
As I sat there for close to 2 hours I knew my life would never be the same again. 14 March. One month short of my daughter’s 20th birthday. Barely 49 years old and a 2 hour assault which would forever change who I am. Or would it?
Truth be told, the assault began nearly 10 years earlier. For one reason or another they were all fighting a battle to get out. A battle that could only be detected by time lapsed photography – a battle which creeps up on you slowly but ever so surely. Slowly, the fatal blow lands on one after another. Often, days (sometimes weeks) of throbbing pain precedes a death. Then when death comes the pain stops. And it is no more. Life needs to go on however and so a prosthetic is put in place. A prosthetic had for its purpose largely cosmetic, and only a little bit functional.
Ten years on the carnage is complete. The tomb is whitewashed. One can adjust to prosthetics but life has irretrievably changed. Physically and to a large extent in many other respects it is adverse change. Coping and adjusting to prosthetics is a first step not unlike a baby learning how to walk perhaps. Maybe that’s just life. One adjusts and copes with changes at all turns. Some are harder than others and some are more far reaching than others. But everyone encounters events which require adjustments and coping.
This carnage though, would take a long time to come to terms with. If at all.