Lockjaw & Love
On Wednesday night, my jaw started hurting while chewing beef stroganaff I’d accidentally made with bottom round rather than top. I took Randy’s hand and held it up to my face. “Rub my jaw,” I commanded.
“What?” he asked. “Can’t you do that yourself?”
“I need unbiased fingers.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Okay, then.”
After supper, we sat on the couch and I powered on my laptop and in Google’s search engine typed Symptoms of Lockjaw.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the screen. “I’ve got three of five: my jaw hurts, my neck was stiff when I was giving Adelaide a bath last night, and I think” –-I swallowed and clutched my throat— “yes,” I softly said. “My throat’s a little sore.”
Randy said, “Do you think you’re gonna make it?”
“Not sure,” I replied. “If I don’t, I want you to marry again.”
“Never,” he said.
I folded my arms. “Honey. I’m serious.”
Randy stopped humming “If I Die Young” and looked over at me. “Where’s the cut?” he asked.
I held up my right leg and then my left. I ran my hand over the shins but couldn’t feel an abrasion. “It wasn’t a big cut,” I said. “More like a scratch.”
He rolled his eyes. “You don’t get tetanus from a scratch.”
“It says here that in 70% of tetanus cases there’s not even a recorded wound.”
“Wow. This really is serious.”
“You’ll see,” I said with an otherworldy air.
The next morning, my jaw felt even worse. It probably did not help that I constantly kept stretching out the muscles like I was the alien posing for the painting, “The Scream.”
Randy, to my consternation, still did not seem worried as I grumbled while chewing my bagel. “Ya know, they say that people in third world countries get tetanus more than we do because they’re exposed to manure.”
“Do they?” he said, pouring water into the coffee machine. “And how were you exposed to manure?”
“Well,” I paused and waved my bagel around. “You remember when I tried saving those birds?” He looked over his shoulder and nodded. “When I took down their nest, their droppings scattered all over me. I think I breathed a lot of that in.”
“That was stupid,” Randy said.
I put down my bagel. “I think I have a deadly disease, and you say that I’m stupid?”
“I didn’t say that you were stupid, I said that what you did was stupid. Like when you tell me to be more careful when I cut myself.”
“That’s different,” I said.
“Okay,” Randy said. “I’m sorry.”
At lunchtime I called him, jubilant as if I’d just bagged the Powerball lottery. “Just talked to the health department. I had the tetanus shot in 2004. I’m going to make it.”
“Shew,” Randy said. “You really had me worried there.”
Before I dragged my laptop out on the porch to write this blog, Randy said, “Have you backed your novel up lately?”
“Nope,” I said, knocking the French door open with my hip.
“That’s probably not so smart.”
I turned and grinned. “See? That sounds a whole lot better than ‘That’s stupid’.”
Randy smiled. “I’m learning.”
For good or for bad, what are you also “learning” about your significant other?
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E.B. Black
Funny story. I have jaw pain a lot and can't chew many things well, so I can relate.
I was afraid I had tetanus earlier this year. I spent a few months in bed, going into convulsions because I had severe pain in my jaw and screaming in pain over and over again and not eating for months, but they told me the same thing. Impossible because I had the shot. It turned out I had an infection of my nerve, they think. It went away and that's all I care about.
Jolina Petersheim
Oh, my! Bless your heart! I think my pain was a mixture of the stroganoff and the fact that I sometimes clench my jaws in my sleep (especially if my sleep is erratic, which it has been since the birth of my daughter). I feel your pain, although I haven't really “felt” it. The true symptoms sound awful. I am so happy you are doing better now.
Julia Munroe Martin
I cannot tell you how similar this is to many a conversation MEH and I have had over the years…. too funny, hilarious. I suffer from frequent jaw pain and I never thought it could be lockjaw until I read this. And now I'm afraid it's been added to my list of possible ailments. Glad all's well, Jolina, and here's to many more google searches and conversations… (especially to inspire blog posts like this!)
Jolina Petersheim
Ha! It is so much fun having husbands who help balance our eccentricities with dry humor. Instead of worrying, we just crack up! 🙂
Lindsey Woodyard
Jolina, I like how you stated that “That's probably not smart” sounds better than “That's stupid.” Troy and I have a similar conversation about saying “I don't care” when trying to make a decision. We now say to one another “I don't have a preference” because it sounds better than not “caring”. Funny how we figure out these little things in conversations with our husbands!
Jolina Petersheim
I never thought of that before, Lindsey, but “I don't have a preference” definitely sounds better. We'll have to apply that ourselves. Just wait until we both have our ten year anniversaries, we'll have this whole marriage thing down pat! And probably about eight more children, too! 😉
Anonymous
If you clench your teeth all night, you could have TMJ which is an irritated jaw joint. Let it rest and don't chew gum or open your mouth to screem. :)-Janet Beam
Jolina Petersheim
Thanks for the tips, Janet. It has already gotten better now that I know I don't have tetaus. 🙂 When I have an ailment, I just poke and prod until I make it worse!
Cecilia Marie Pulliam
I loved this post! You do have a way with words, Jolina. Glad you don't have lockjaw and your jaw is improving. My sister once talked so much she dislocated her jaw. Took some time for it to heal…..
Jolina Petersheim
An aching jaw is certainly a way to measure your words! 🙂
CMSmith
I agree with Randy about backing up your novel.
I hate it when I start googling symptoms right off the bat. There's always something dreadful that I become convinced I, or a loved one, has. If I'm going to self-diagnose, I probably ought to put in the time at a medical school. 🙂
I'm glad you're okay.
Jolina Petersheim
I'm going to back my novel up today; thank you for reminding me! :} Google is just awful for diagnosing ourselves. It seems there is always something wrong if you just type enough information in. Our imaginations are just too active, I guess.
sarah k
So funny…I love the dialogue here. My husband also has many occasions to be patient with my hypochondriac fears–for myself. When he says he doesn't feel well, I roll my eyes and sigh and worry that he's going to give it to the kids. Nice, eh? 🙂
Jolina Petersheim
Very nice, ha! I am always worried that my daughter's going to pick something up, too, and here I always thought I'd be a relaxed parent who didn't care if her child ate mud! 😉