No Screws Loose

 

It was a rainy august day when I got departed from the last piece of screw in my jaw.

I welcomed it more than 10 years ago, after seemingly a brave decision to take part on a new orthodontical method for correcting teeth and how the mouth closes. 

I still remember the doctor trying to convince me that some people were flying from other cities just to have their teeth corrected there. Not that the method had any particular popularity or needed selling out, it was more the dedication and willingness to have a better-looking teeth that my doctor tried to impose on the patients. He would make pictures on each step, which I assume was part of some PhD thesis along the way.

At the day when he put 4 screws to my mouth and in the following months and years, it did not really seem to be the best idea to make- for whatever it was worth. But then, when everything was over and my mouth was free from all the metals and screws, it finally kicked in that I made the right decision and I could finally experience smiling more freely, making me feel less alienated then I already did feel.

This piece that was stubborn to leave my jawbone though, I thought that it was long gone although I remember having some problems to take it out back then. I never realized it never left me until a couple of years ago. Since I never really had any complaints, I wouldn’t be able to tell whether I should get rid of it or not, but eventually convinced my German dentist to take the necessary action, and there it was, this 2-3 cm metal screw piece, coming out of my jawbone.

Now, I know that this is not necessarily the content people are reading at blogposts with an engagement nowadays. Yet, I always took time to reflect on my life here, since I heard in this very first year of university at a talk that keeping a blog is cool and that I should do it no matter how I share, however it looks, and however long are my texts.

I did it for some time and I can tell that having these screws back then was one of the main driving forces for writing stuff. Feeling like a victim of things that I cannot control seemed to be easier to tame when I write about them and share my feelings.

I still remember the building of the dentistry faculty, with some unique stone vitrays at the entry floor. Even that building is no longer the correct place for ortrhodonty, and the seasons are no longer as they used to be in this gloomy mid-sommer. 

Seasons shifted, buildings switched, screws left. And after almost 2 years later, I am writing a blog piece.

If this is not a testimony to the change that is the only thing that is not changing, then I don’t know what is.