Monday, July 14, 2008

Tumor Free!

Tumor free!  Tumor free!  I am effin' tumor free!

Ladies and Gentlemen, step up, step up to see the freak!  Yes, ladies and gentlemen, what we have here is a unique situation.  A bonifide boney mystery.  Yes sir, behind this curtain is... wait for it... wait for it... "significant derangement of the TM joints bilaterally; non-reducing anteriorly displaced disc on left side, right side disc deformed and fixed over superior aspect of condylar head secondary to erosive changes and noted anterior translations on both condylar heads."


Once upon a time there was a Princess.  Every morning the Princess looked in the mirror and cried, for she thought she was an ugly Princess.  From birth, her lower jaw had recessed, giving her a seriously wicked overbite and causing her front teeth to splay in a buck-toothed fashion.  And thus all the children laughed and made her be the Ewok at recess time.

One day, when the Princess was almost of age (Grade 10), a magician rode into town with silver instruments and rows upon rows of multi-coloured tooth-jewelry.  "Princess!" he sang out, "why do you cry such bitter tears?  For I can forge this magic metal and turn you instantly into the beauty you so desire to be!  In about two years give or take.  And a little surgery.  Oh, it's minor.  You'll hardly notice it."

The Princess begged the King to let her undergo the magician's magic spell.  The King was suspicious.  He knew the cost of 3,000 golden goats was waaaaaaaay more than the kingdom could afford.  After all, he was a single parenting King who did shift work fixing multiple... broken... kingdoms.


But the Princess cried and begged and told her father that he was never going to marry off any of his many, many, many daughters if he didn't give a little on the cosmetic procedures.  So finally, armed with the King's iffy credit card, the Princess went to see the magician.  The magician waved his wand, said a spell, and the Princess went into a deep, deep sleep from which she awoke a hideous monster.  Though, when the swelling finally went down, she was remarkably pleased with her new look.  She promptly went out and started dating a particular knight just because he had a nice steed.

Fast forward 20'ish years.  The Princess was now married to a King of her own, a decent, kind and loving King.  This makes her a Queen, I guess (which is always what she kind of felt she was anyway).  And our Queen still had that beautiful 3,000 golden goat smile.  But now she was keenly aware of the cost.  For years, ever since the original spell, her face ached.  Her jaw pinched.  Her back and her shoulders screamed.  The bones of her head moved and shifted in ways they weren't supposed to, feeling like the lower half of her face would detach itself from her skull at any second with one final, giant CRACK!  

The Queen, thus tortured for a decade, spent thousands and thousands more golden goats on magicians' spells, seeking out witches and soothsayers to give her the magic that would finally end her painful suffering.  And after a multitude of failures, our Queen came to the end of her journey when one day she was granted access to a beautiful and wondrous White Witch, with some pretty frickin' impressive credentials from the most esteemed American... covens.... Anyway, this White Witch gazed into the depths of her crystal ball, shook her head in bafflement and said, "what in the hell was that magician thinking?" 

See, it turns out that back in those primavera days of Grade 10, that magician had forgotten to read to our Queen the fine print, the part about how ye royal jaw bones wouldn't actually fit anymore after the surgery.  How over the years they would pinch and grind and crack themselves, re-modeling to fit themselves to the magician's evil magic.  How they would rearrange the furniture, folding the cushions into impossible positions.  How they would be referred to as 'degenerated,' 'deformed' and 'severely arthritic'.  And as lovely as the Princess was now on the outside, it turned out to be at the cost of structural integrity on the inside.

There was nothing the White Witch could do to reverse the black magic.  However, for a certain price, she could offer magic beans with wondrous names that end in "ac" and "fen" (side effects include drowsiness, hallucinations, seizures, loss of balance or impaired reactions).  These, she told the Princess, were the options.  "Hand 'em over," said the Queen.

The moral of the story is... well...  I'm still figuring that out.

posted by Working From Home Today
~ permalink ~ backlinks ~ social bookmark

outside links to this post:


Anonymous James ~ 3:45 PM

I knew weddings were expensive!

Similar story here, except it was ass implants.  

Blogger notquiteawake ~ 4:11 PM

I'm glad you don't have a tumor! We should both have a turmor free party when you get here.
Sorry about the other stuff though. That blows.  

post a comment ~ Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom] ~ main page