Surgery Jar: Drops of Faith

This is long. At the end, your computer may or may not magically produce chocolate chip cookies.  Probably not, but hey, it could happen! I just have to write this, whether or not anyone else gets anything out of it, I never want to forget.

In the Bible, Jesus Christ taught a parable about ten virgins.  5 of them were wise and had filled their lamps full of oil so that they would be able to wait the arrival of the Bridegroom.  They couldn't share their oil with the others who were unprepared because then none of them would have enough to await the appointed time.  It had to be prepared ahead of time.

I'm feeling somewhat like one of those young girls with a vessel full of oil at this time in my life.  The oil represents faith. Faith is belief in things we cannot see.  In my church we believe that faith without works is dead, meaning that true faith requires action.  We show our beliefs by acting on them, rather than simply stating a belief in Christ, we try to show it by emulating Him and keeping the commandments.  Faith requires works.
So, maybe my connection here is shaky, but it all is related in some strange convoluted way.  I'm not talking about my faith to endure to the end of my life, but the faith I have had to build up to get me through a trial in my life- my big mysterious mouth problem.  Being a medical mystery is a pretty unpleasant way to be different.

Two years ago one of my teeth broke. It had been hurting when I chewed for months but the dentist couldn't find a cavity.  I rushed to the dentist and he filled the hole, telling me I had a cavity in a weird spot that had caused the cusp of my molar to break off. He assured me everything would be fine.  It should have been fine.  But, it wasn't.  For a few weeks I avoided chewing on that side of my mouth because it had hurt for months before the tooth broke and I was afraid it would still hurt.  Not long after I started chewing again, I suddenly developed tooth sensitivity to cold- shooting pain when I ate or drank anything at all cool. It happened overnight.  It was July 5th, 2010.  I had a 7 week old baby,5 older kids, and no health or dental insurance due to a pre-existing condition.

I made another appointment with the dentist.  He told me to use sensitive toothpaste. The sensitivity remained and I developed pain in all of my teeth.  They felt tight.  They hurt a lot.  My chewing muscles hurt.  My ears hurt. The pain was so intense I couldn't focus on anything else.  I thought I needed a root canal.

I asked my husband for a blessing.  Little did I know that this was when my jar for this trial, then empty, was about to require filling, one little drop at a time.  I thought he would bless me to get through the root canal and be calm. Instead I received the most unexpected priesthood blessing of my life.

He blessed me that if I stayed close to the Spirit, I would be led to the different specialists I needed to find people who would help me.   He blessed me that my family and friends would help me through this difficult time.  He blessed me that eventually I would be healed but I would need patience.

I was shocked.  I was upset.  It was not the blessing I wanted.  But, obviously it was what I needed.  As I sit here, just over two years later, still on my journey of healing for my mouth,  I clearly recognize the blessings of that blessing.  At the time though, it was very discouraging. 

I tried to stay positive and not complain.   My mouth hurt constantly.  The dentist made me a mouthguard.

No change.

He put me on motrin, around the clock for 2 weeks. 

No change.

He gave me antibiotics.

No change. 

Over time, the sensitivity decreased, but new symptoms appeared.  My front teeth started to click when I ate, tiny movements against each other.  I began to hit my teeth at random times while talking.  It would result in pain later.  I developed muscle bracing of my chewing muscles and was unable to relax my muscles at all.  They were constantly in knots.  I would wake up in the night with my teeth chattering violently.  Chewing was difficult.  Talking was hard. My lips were tight around my teeth. 

Every morning when I woke up I desperately hoped that the pain would be gone or that it would lessen. 

It never was. 

So, despite my lack of insurance, and at my dentist's suggestion, I sought other options of care.  I went to see another dentist who specializes in TMJ.  He wanted to crown my tooth, grind my teeth down, and give me a mouth guard- all for $2,500.  I balked at the price and the suggestions and decided to keep looking.  It felt wrong. 

I went to a jaw specialist.  For $500, which included a CAT scan of my head, he told me that I didn't have TMJ. After some strange measuring and prodding, he told me I was grinding and clenching in my sleep due to my terrible bite relationship.  WHAT?  He said I needed braces.Malocclusion.  WHAT????????

I had braces when I was a kid. At this point I had spent $1,000 to find out what was wrong with me.

Still, his answer felt right.  I went to physical therapy and learned everything I could do to reduce my clenching and grinding. I made a lot of changes. It did start to help some. The book "The TMJ Healing Plan" was a great resource. I went to see the orthodontist.  He told me I did need braces, but that I also needed a "little" surgery to expand my palate.  The expansion should have been done when I was a kid, using a palatal expander in my mouth.  I'll never know why my orthodontist did not recommend expansion when it would have been so easy and inexpensive to do to my adolesclent jawbone. 

I went to see an oral surgeon.  He explained the whole procedure.  The short story is they are going to cut my top teeth completely off, cut the bone vertically in a few places, and screw it all back together.  Fun! 
And who knew that much in office 3 hour fun filled surgery would come with a $10,000 price tag. 

We couldn't afford it. And something felt wrong.  I decided to trust my feelings and wait.  Waiting and saving felt right. We waited and we saved.  I waited for about a year.

  I was in pain every single day.

 During that time many well meaning friends and family members made other suggestions to me.  My dentist wanted me to go see a specialist in Kentucky.  Several people thought a different dentist could help or a chiropractor.  About halfway through I saw another orthodontist, who agreed with the first, but wanted to fit me with a full mouthguard that was built up to simulate a good bite, in hopes that it would help my mouth "calm down" before the braces.  This idea sounded great, but for some reason I knew I needed to stick with the first orthodontist. So, I kept waiting. 

After a year, I told my husband I couldn't wait any longer. The pain was going to kill me! And I went in and got the braces. 

Holy guacamole!  They hurt so much more than the first time . I literally couldn't chew anything for 2 months.  NOTHING.  Not even a banana or cottage cheese.  I pre-chewed all my food with a fork and knife, and basically swallowed it whole.  It wasn't pretty. Then, things started to get easier. 

My pain started to lessen!

Every time my braces were tightened I couldn't chew for a week, but it wasn't as bad as what I went through before. 

Eventually the muscle pain disappeared.  The other symptoms still remain to varying degrees.  My bite is still terrible-maybe even worse than before.  I haven't had my surgery yet. My teeth click. They chatter at night. I hit them when I talk sometimes.  I can't bite down at all. I've had two more teeth break from nighttime clenching or getting hit in the face by a child.  I've developed an open bite and I have to tear my food with my side teeth.  It's really cute.  I got thrush and my whole mouth was covered with blisters.  Then I had an allergic reaction to my mouthwash and my lips swelled up like Angelina Jolie.  I have the most NOT boring mouth I know!

I don't care though,because for the past several months the pain has been tolerable and I don't think about my teeth every 3 seconds.  Okay, I'm really starting to wind down here.  I know, this is exhausting. Think about how hard it was to live through. After 8 months of braces, I was surgery ready.  I decided to follow the promptings I felt and visited a different oral surgeon.  I never felt right about the first one.  I went to see a new guy- Dr. Scott Urban.  I liked him right away.  He told me he would never let his wife or daughter have this surgery in his office.  If I hemorrhage, the only thing to do is call 911. It's much safer in the hospital.  He personally called the hospital and bargained with them to get a fixed price for everything, including the required overnight stay.  Yes, this is big bad surgery.  The starting price for the hospital was $30,000.  He talked them down to $13,000 and offered his services for $5,000.  I was so grateful, but despite our best efforts, we have only saved $5,000.  We have been paying for my $5,000 braces and Reuben's at the same time, along with all of the other expenses of 6 kids, we had found no way to save any more, and had been hoping to pay off the balance over a year or two.  $18,000 might as well have been a million. 

I couldn't go into surgery knowing I couldn't pay.  It was time to follow the Spirit again.  I talked to somebody and felt prompted to look into Utah's insurance for uninsurable people again.  I had checked it out before and found it to be too expensive and to have a one year waiting period for pre-existing conditions.  It was going to cost me more money than the surgery to do it with insurance.  But, this time, something had changed.  A federal component of the program now exists.  It's called Federal HIP.  It's still really expensive, but I did the math, and found that I would spend $8,000 to get the surgery and any other care I need before January when the deductible and max out of pocket starts again. 

It was just the silver lining I needed.  All along I've had to go on pure faith- taking action as I am led by the Holy Ghost.  I felt right about this path and followed it. 

I applied for the insurance, knowing that the surgery might not be covered.  The phone rep said it depended on my personal case and that a review would take 30-90 days.  Usually I am a big worrier, but I knew this was right and that it would work out.  At the end of May I heard back that I had the insurance. 

I called the oral surgeon's office to begin the review process to try to get the surgery approved. The insurance book I got in the mail seemed to say in one place that my surgery wasn't covered and in another that it might be covered.  I didn't care.  I knew I was doing the right thing, no matter the outcome. 

I waited and waited.  After 5 weeks, just a few days ago,  I called and asked if they had heard. Not yet.

Yesterday, I went visiting teaching and missed a call from the oral surgeon's office.

It's probably a good thing.

When I listened to the message, I had to pull over to the side of the road so I could cry for a few minutes. That would have been embarrassing on the phone with the receptionist.

They were tears of happiness and relief.  My surgery has been approved! 

Wow! It's been a long journey.  It's been a hard journey.  My personal journal is full of honest descriptions of my pain.  I'm so grateful for the reduced pain I have had the last several months.  And I'm ready for the next big step.  The surgery is going to be intense.  I will probably lose some weight.  Woo hoo! ( as long as I don't gain it back plus some more)  I will lose all feeling in my upper teeth and probably lip.  It might come back in 6 months.  It might never come back.  When I am allowed to chew again after 6-8 weeks, it will be difficult with no feeling in my top teeth.  I will look like a freak for a while, yes guys, like more of a freak than I look like now :) .  But, it's okay. 

This journey has been incredible.  I'm so grateful for the roadmap of faith that I received from that one blessing.  It was critical to me to learn at the beginning that I would be responsible to discern the promptings of the Holy Ghost as I was guided in my care.  I had to rise to the challenge or I knew I would never get better.  I have learned more clearly than ever before to recognize those feelings and trust in them completely.  And I am continuing in my trust.  I know this surgery is the right thing.  I know it will help me.  I am ready to move forward. 

Ahh! Finally, I'm almost done with my huge and extremely personal post.  I just want to end with the story of the surgery jar.  Around the time I got my braces, Clara, my 6 year old, decided to do more than just pray daily for me to get my surgery.  She decided to act on her faith.  Clara found a jar and labeled it "Surgery Jar for Mommy".  She placed her birthday money from Grandma Mary in the jar- $4.  It was all the money she had at the time or had seen for quite a while.  We don't pay allowance right now.  This gesture touched my heart as it would anyone.  I thought she might reclaim the money soon, but I was wrong.  Bit by bit, drop by drop, my little children have given me their pennies, nickles, dimes and quarters, plunking them in this jar of hope.  It's really pitiful how little is in there- maybe $8. But, to me, this jar is full of the fruits of faith.  And I'm ready. Sometime in the next two months I will have my surgery and continue my journey.  I pray that it will be downhill from that point, but if it isn't, I can trust in the blessing I received and know that in the end, there will be healing for me.  

Sew Sew

On Monday I broke in my old/new sewing machine and put together a table runner inspired from a pinterest post..

  I caught the sewing bug slowly. Very. Very. Slowly. I was introduced a long time ago. . . .

My mom sews like a pro.  She made us clothes, costumes, tote bags, whatever we wanted.  She fixed our holey jeans and still does if I ask occasionally.

But I never wanted to sew.

They forced me in 7th grade Home Ec..  I made an apron.  I still have it.   

It took forever and had to be TOTALLY perfect.  I got 103.  Yes, as in beyond perfect.

I hated sewing that apron. I think it took about 400 hours.

When I got married my sister helped me sew some matching pajamas as a wedding gift for my husband.  They were so cute!  And they were a big pain.  I don't remember many details, I'm sure I've blocked them.  But, I do remember the buttonholes being super hard.  I used sports themed flannel as a sign of love to my sports crazed fiance from his sports hating intended.  Ahh, the good old days. :)

That pretty much ended my machine sewing career for the next 14 years.  After all, I didn't own a machine and I couldn't afford one.  And I had zero interest in sewing clothes.  My mom remarked the other day that she tried to teach me when I was a teenager . I asked, "Did you try to get me to sew clothes?" She answered, "Probably".  I countered," I still don't want to sew clothes.  I don't know why, but they just don't appeal to me right now."

I'm not opposed to sewing clothes, but it definitely isn't what made me start to want a machine.  I "blame" my sister Rachael for that.  My Mother in law retired this year and for the first time in my marriage is available to tend during they day.  She graciously offered her services on any Monday I need them.  Rachael, always looking to help me improve myself, knew I couldn't say no any longer.  She convinced me to join the Block of the Month Class at Quilts Etc. .  How could I refuse?  It only costs $5.50 for the whole year as long as you always bring your block to the next class.  Rachael made herself and her machines available to me for sewing every month.  And I was off!

It was a crooked start.  It wasn't love at first sight either.
But, it started to grow on me.  I began to make more blocks than required.  I started to experiment with the fabric combos and the patterns.  It felt like a small way of artistically expressing myself.  Sewing is a fascinating combination of creativity, precision, math, and patience.
And slowly, ever so slowly, I started to really want my own sewing machine . I borrowed one from a friend to make it easier for me to finish my blue jean quilt-  a project also courtesy of Rachael's encouragement.

The first day my kids needed some kitty ears for a special day at school.  I grabbed some pink fabric I had on hand and whipped up two pair in about 10 minutes, just in time for them to catch the bus. The next day, Tim needed a rip repaired in his shirt.  It was quick work!

They started to beg my husband to buy me a sewing machine.  But, the timing wasn't right to spend $500 ( to get what I wanted- a used Bernina)  since we are trying to save for my upcoming jaw surgery.  I decided to save on my own and knew I could save up enough in about 6 months of working for my mom once a week.  And if you are still reading, here is your reward. Yep, it's the cool part.  The mushy, spiritual part.  Sorry, that's an integral part of me.

At the exact time in my life when I FINALLY had a strong desire to own a sewing machine, but no way to get one for a while, Heavenly Father called my grandmother home.  She had a heart attack and her kidneys failed.  The doctors couldn't help her and sent her home to die.  While she was still lucid, some time during the nearly two weeks that it took for her to die, my mother asked Grandma if I could have her sewing machine.

She said yes.

It might seem insignificant or chance, but I see the hand of the Lord and His tender mercies in the timing.  Had my desire started a year earlier, I already would have bought a machine.  The desire had to grow inside of me at just the right time.  It was perfect and a perfect testament to me, during a difficult time, that Heavenly Father is aware of me and loves me.

I would give anything to have my grandmother still living, enjoying life and serving energetically.  But it was her time.

Having her Bernina sewing machine here in my home is a little bit like having her tangible love.  My grandmother made so many quilts on that machine. I have no idea how many, but it was a lot.  She made them for all of her grandkids when they married.  She has a lot of grandkids. She made them for children, friends, neighbors, and ward members.  They were all hand quilted.

I never understood, until this year, the amount of work and money that went into those quilts.  The hours and hours of service Grandma Mary put in were her love for us, given one stitch at a time.
 There are so many things my grandma taught me.  I somewhat regret my lack of desire to learn to quilt from her, but the timing wasn't right when I lived near her during college.  Still, seeing  her Bernina on my kitchen table somehow causes the memories to frequently surface- all of the things I did learn from Grandma.  She taught me how to drive when I was 8 months pregnant with my first child. She taught me how to can peaches.  She taught me about repentance and forgiveness and service by how she lived her life.  She frequently counseled young couples to "apologize for your part." in any argument.  She called everybody "Baby" in a way that somehow wasn't annoying.  She took care of people.

And I am going to take care of her machine, and love it, and remember her, and teach my children the things my Grandma Mary taught me. Just seeing me sew is sparking an interest in several of my children and they have been able to complete small projects.  I guess they are more genetically advanced than I was as a kid. Luckily my mom is still around to teach me the things I didn't want to learn when I was young.  I have a lot to learn.

I don't know how long it will be before I can sew on Grandma's machine without crying a little here and there.  But I do know that I will NEVER forget Grandma and the influence she had on my life, from smaller things like bringing me gatorades every day for weeks when I was violently ill with morning sickness to the biggest thing of all- accepting the Gospel of Jesus Christ when my mother was a teenager, the beginning of a great heritage and legacy of her descendants joining and serving in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints. Grandma, thank you for all of it.