In June of 2011, I was assaulted by a stranger in a restaurant where I had gone to share a few minutes of quiet conversation with a new friend. This man approached my friend and I and suggested that we have sex with him. When we rebuffed his advances, he attacked us. He verbally assaulted my friend, then spit in her face and hit her with a chair. He then grabbed me and threw me across the room. The right side of my head, just behind my ear, struck a metal sink.
A few weeks later, as I was recovering from the concussion caused by the assault, I received another head injury. I arrived home after a brutal day at trial, desperately in need of the bathroom and carrying a huge satchel of paperwork. My apartment was dark, and when I reached overhead to pull the chain on the light switch, the heavy, antique fixture dislodged and crashed down on my crown, knocking me to the floor. My bags spilled all around me and the light fixture smashed into glistening shards, as I sat shaking and crying in a puddle. At the E.R., an MRI showed further concussion.
In March of 2012, I was bit by a tick on my right occiput, at the base of my skull. I didn't know at the time that it was a tick bite, mistaking it instead for a spider bite or highly reactive mosquito bite, as the area around the wound was clearly infected. Because I was naive to the dangers of Lyme disease, I did not seek medical attention. A month later, I drove myself to my local E.R., impaired by a 3-day migraine that was not responding to analgesics. At the E.R., I was given two doses of morphine, which removed the terror I was feeling but didn't touch the pain.
In June of 2014, I was bit on my left occiput, but because I was already in a terrible state of mind and body did not recall the previous bite. Two months and a hellish combination of symptoms later, my body simply crashed. After three or four sleepless nights engulfed in a haze of pain and fear, I sat up and remembered the bite, and then the first bite, and thought, "Lyme." The following two months were spent in bed, recovering from the acute effects of Late Disseminated Lyme Disease, which I had contracted more than two years prior. It was a full two years before I felt that I had managed to overcome the worst effects of Lyme and found some new kind of normal.
Last week, I saw my chiropractor, as I have on many occasions over the past several years. He has been instrumental in my recovery from these bodily insults, as a healer and a friend. I've been in so much pain for so long now that I didn't realize how much I really hurt until, at the end of our session, he touched a spot between my left cheek and ear and I broke down into tears. He sat me up, performed a couple of exams, and said, "Come back soon. I need to work on your jaw." I scheduled another appointment and left.
As I walked out of his office and walked to my car, I realized that all of the pain I have been feeling is related to the misalignment of my TMJ, the temporomandibular joint that allows my jaw to operate properly. A couple of days ago, in more pain than I could manage on my own, I began looking online on how to release TMJ muscle spasms, watching YouTube videos and reading blogs and absorbing information like the crackerjack legal researcher that I am.
Immediately, I discovered that by palpating and massaging the pterygoid muscles, accessible inside my mouth, the pain began to relent and my body, for years in deep spasm in response to the multiple craniofacial injuries I have received, began to relax. I can feel muscles releasing all over my entire body, literally from head to toe. It's absolutely blowing my mind that for the past several years all of the headaches, bouts of vertigo, debilitating anxiety, facial pain, eye twitching, tinnitus, jaw clenching, neck and shoulder spasms, jaw and tooth pain and sensitivity, nasal congestion, lack of mobility and balance, and brain fog have been connected to my jaw being in a spasm so intense that I could not even fit one slender finger between the pterygoid muscle and my jaw on my first attempt. Not even one finger.
I'm still in terrible pain and I can feel that my skeleton is misaligned, but I feel more hopeful today than I have in years, because I made a connection and took action to improve my condition. On one hand, there is a voice chiding me and blaming others for not figuring it out long ago, just like with the Lyme Disease. I mean, this is classic TMJ, people! On the other, I am just grateful that I can feel my body naturally responding to my ministrations with a drive to heal. It just knows what to do when I give it what it needs. This, alone, is reward and encouragement.
What's really astounding me, though, is the interesting coincidence of unlocking the key to years-long chronic pain just as I am reinventing my entire life from a place of dedication to my passions. Here I am, at 53, getting divorced after 12 years of separation, leaving the restaurant I helped to run for 12 years, and embarking on a new life as a writer, editor, and teacher of creative nonfiction, all of which are contributing mightily to a sense of joy and personal fulfillment. Simultaneously, I have taken the first, most important step toward reclaiming my physical health and mental wellbeing, by recognizing an issue and finding a solution.
I'm getting realigned and it feels good.
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