OUCH....or HOW MANY TIMES CAN I TYPE THE WORD "SPIT"

Eighteen and a half years ago, after delivering Blake via c-section, and after lying flat on my back for 12 hours, a nurse helped me brush my teeth. I was finally able to sit upright and she held a little basin under my chin while I brushed.

Interestingly, when I went to spit my toothpaste into the basin, it merely dribbled weakly down my chin instead of hitting the basin. Not that it mattered. I had said goodbye to my dignity upon entering the hospital the day before.

Since my abdominal muscles had been traumatized and I was still somewhat numb from the spinal block, I had no spitting power. There was no oomph to my spitting.

Never having been much of a spitter (much to my brothers' chagrin) I had no idea how important abdominal muscles were to spitting.

It was one of the first lessons motherhood taught me.

Now I find myself in the same boat, being unable to spit well.

Because I have a huge canker sore on the side of my tongue, a smaller one on the inside of my lower lip, and one forming on the inside of my upper lip.

The sore on my tongue has nearly left me incapacitated. It's like having strep throat on my tongue.

It hurts to talk. It hurts to chew. It hurts to swallow food, medicine, and my own spit. When I try to spit my toothpaste into the bathroom sink, it merely dribbles into the basin in a pitiful stream of Crest Whitening. There's not enough force behind it to even hit the drain.

I warned my husband last night,that it was beginning to hurt when I talked. Seeing the dread on his face that I would remain silent for the next five to seven days (surely it was dread) I assured him that I would soldier on and talk through the pain.

Anything for my beloved.

Today, though, I changed my mind. I do not want to talk. I have taken to printing e-mails regarding our family Christmas parties and marking them with "FYI" and placing them in front of him. Normally, I would follow him down to his man cave and fill him in on all the details, but today he gets a memo. Just like at the office.

Funny, though, my inability to talk seems to have hit at the same time as a profound lack of hearing on my husband's part. The few things I have said to him this evening, he responds to with "what?" I do not know if this is because, in my effort to talk somewhat painlessly, I may sound a little bit like Quasimodo, or if he is torturing me just for fun and finds it amusing to watch me grimace while I speak to him.

Surely he wouldn't be torturing me, would he? I mean it is the Christmas season.


I am rinsing my mouth with a peroxide mixture. I'm rinsing with tea (the tannin is supposed to speed the drying of the sores) and I'm eating ice cream and mashed potatoes. And I am praying for fast healing.

In the meantime, my family is just going to have to get along without my voice for a few days.

I'm totally counting it as their main Christmas present.