Wired Shut and Mosie
Many of the members on my mother’s side of the family had a gap between their front teeth that could be easily closed by braces. I had one and so did Serena and Doug. Since I was embarrassed about mine, I wanted Serena and Doug to have theirs closed. After both were finished wearing braces, I decided I wanted to get them too. What I didn’t know was adult orthodontics required a different and more difficult approach. I had to wear headgear, which was a weird-looking contraption, even while I was at work. I was able to cover most of it with my hair except the part that hooked to my teeth. I looked like I wore a football helmet with a mouthpiece. It was so uncomfortable and I was embarrassed to wear it in public.
Even with the headgear my teeth weren’t moving so the orthodontist added rubber bands on my upper and lower teeth that were hooked to the braces. It was hard for me to open my mouth. It was more painful than any procedure I’d had before and I felt like I had the flu all of the time, I couldn’t bear it. The orthodontist told me that the alternative would be jaw surgery. When I met with the oral surgeon whose practice was in Portland, he explained to me that after the surgery on my jaw, my teeth would have to be wired shut for ten days which seemed like an eternity. It was. If I’d known I would have to have surgery, I wouldn’t have gotten braces. But I had to finish what I’d started.
The night before the dreaded surgery Dave and I went out for dinner, sort of like the last meal prisoners get to choose. I chose liver and onions; I liked that meal but also it was high in iron. The surgery was supposed to take two or three hours. The last thing I heard was the anesthesiologist telling me he was putting cocaine in my nose. Then afterward, I heard the anesthesiologist say, “Margaret come back.” I was in a fog. The surgery ended up taking seven hours because my teeth were at an odd angle. During it my lips had been held open the whole time. Serena and some friends stopped by on their way to see the Pendelton rodeo. Dave told me later when she saw me she actually screamed. My lips looked like earthworms. It was a good thing I was out of it, I would have screamed too!
A narcotic, morphine was prescribed and I needed it to help deal with my pain level. It gave me the weirdest dreams. One dream was that a friend I knew from church was making and stirring soup but it was in a big pond. Then I dreamed I was at the Diamond Lake summer home and I couldn’t get my mouth to open so I could chew gum and I couldn’t talk. Then came the world of jaws wired shut. I could have pureed food only and it had to be put in a syringe so I could feed myself through a small opening at one side of my jaw.
We had a restaurant in town that made delicious soups; I had no energy to cook anything so Dave bought me soup from there six days a week and he or I purred one of the soups so they could go through a syringe. After several days my energy was lagging, we guessed it was from the lack of protein, so we added turkey baby food to the soup. I also drank Ensure for nourishment. I learned if it was iced it was more tolerable than at room temperature. However, I will still weak. Kelly a woman from church I barely knew offered to come once a week to vacuum the floors of our house, she did for six weeks. We became close friends.
When Dave and I started getting the bills we found out the surgery cost more than seventeen thousand dollars. Which was a lot of money to us especially since the estimated cost was seven hundred. The increase was due to the length and complexity of the surgery. Thankfully the next statement showed an eight thousand credit by our health insurance carrier. Since our policy stated that jaw surgery wasn’t covered, I called the insurance support line to see if it was a mistake and they said it wasn’t. All it could be was God making a way when there wasn’t supposed to be a way, oh how good he is.
My surgery had been in September. The morning temperatures were crisp but the afternoons were pleasantly warm. I sat out in the backyard on a picnic bench working on a handmade rug absorbing all the warmth I could. And then came along Mosie. A cat.
Over the years Dave and I had many cats and we loved each one. My parents did too, particularly Mosie. They lived across the street from an undeveloped strip of land. It was between two streets meaning it was handy for people to drop off unwanted cats. Dad and mom took in as many as they could but usually, they had to go to the animal shelter. Dad called one day to say another cat had been left off and wondered if I would take it. I didn’t really want another one but, it was hard for me to say no to my dad. Little did I know that a cat would be a comfort for me after my surgery. When I sat in the backyard at our picnic table the warmth soothing my aching jaw and tired body. The kitty sat on the picnic bench as close as possible as if she knew I needed comfort.
She took her time going anywhere so we named her Mosie. She craved attention. She loved to be carried and would rest her paw on our shoulders like a child would do. She did have some exasperating habits though; at times she ran in front of us and laid down to get our attention she get us to pick her up. She loved to sleep on the warm car after it had been driven and left dirty paw prints all over the clean surface, but it was easy to get a damp rag and clean the hood. She bumped us insistently with her nose when we were bent over working in the garden. She was also a vocal kitty, when we called her she came running and meowing all the way. She was an excellent hunter and killed snakes, especially when I was near. I knew she was protecting me from the creepy, crawly, slithery things.
When we discovered a lump on her back we took her to the veterinarian. He said it was likely from a bite by a feral cat. His instructions were to crush antibiotic pills and put them in her food as well as put hot packs on the wound several times a day. Mosie hated it and most of the time ran away before we could catch her.
The apartment we rented temporarily after we sold our house didn’t allow pets. Lucy and her husband Steve were the new owners and they agreed to keep Mosie in the meantime. Every couple of days I went to check on her to hold and pet her. She seemed to know the sound of our car in the driveway and she came running. I asked Lucy to call me if she noticed the infection coming back, she called soon afterward saying she wasn’t sure Mosie was feeling well.
Mosie was resting on a comforter on a bench in the carport when I arrived. She didn’t meow when I spoke to her. When I took her to the vet he said she hadn’t healed then he tested her for kitty leukemia and aids and said the antibiotic and hot compress treatment was all he could do with no guaranteed results. She would have to be an indoor kitty but that wasn’t an option for us. If left outside she would spread infection to other animals and her wound wouldn’t heal. He told Dave and I that, if it was his pet, he’d euthanize it. With heavy hearts, we made our decision and we buried her at our old property under a shade
tree at the back of the property.
She was my kitty when I needed her most.
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