My husband met me at the door when I came home today. “So, how did it go?” he asked anxiously.

“I think I may love another man,” I said, still kind of stunned, and blinking back tears of bottled-up emotion.

Doc chuckled appreciatively and put his arms around me. “I was worried that it wouldn’t go well for you. Tell me what he said.”

So I told him. But before I tell you, let me catch you up a wee bit…

Last Thursday I got my final jaw prosthetics. Okay, fine, for all intents and purposes, they’re glorified “false teeth”, but dammit, considering how much money they cost me and how many surgeries and torture I had to go through to get these suckers bolted into my jaw, I’m calling them what the specialists call them: prosthetics, so if that sounds pompous to you… well, bite me.

The previous “final” prosthetics worked well but they made me look like a horse. I got those abominations on The Big Day, which was supposed to be a joyous climax after years of pain and preparation, but instead it was a huge disappointment for all involved, including my dentist. He told the lab that he had hired to custom-make my prosthetics, that they had to do them all over again, and we went back to the drawing board to make the mould they were to follow.

These new final ones are… not bad. A work in progress. I’ve been struggling to get used to them, singing along to the radio to try to lose some of the lisp that I now find myself with. I met up with some friends right after I got them and they assured me they looked good. I tried to believe them, but there was hesitation in their replies. Was I imagining it? How paranoid am I?

This isn’t my first turn on this pony ride, so I know that the mind can play tricks on you and it can take a period of adjustment, no matter how perfect a prosthetic may be. I reminded myself of this every time I accidentally bit something I didn’t mean to (my cheek and tongue are hamburger), and I made a point of looking in the mirror dozens of times over the weekend to try to get used to my new face and make myself happy with what I saw. But I couldn’t quite do it.

I’ve felt very unattractive for the last while. I’ve chalked some of it up to the hideous horse teeth that the last prosthetics were, but a lot of it comes from the humiliating process of having my face, with every wrinkle and imperfection, examined, analyzed, and discussed in painful detail. Yet again. Like I said – this isn’t my first go ’round on that particular pony.

It turns out, it won’t be my final final (how many finals is this, anyway?) ride either. This has been a very long and frustrating adventure, and I’m tired. I had almost convinced myself that I should just suck it up and settle for the face that the lab gave me on Thursday, and just have that long-desired end. After all, it doesn’t look bad. It’s okay. It had been worse.

I grew up in a culture that says you’re supposed to be grateful for whatever you get, and not inconvenience others. And for God’s sake, don’t ever be vain or selfish in any way! But, ya know, I’ve spent an assload of money and suffered immeasurable pain to re-build not just a proper functioning jaw, but also a smile that I will have for, ideally, the rest of my life. I’m kinda slow, but it finally dawned on me that I shouldn’t have to be asking my friends and family, “Are you sure this looks okay?” I should be looking in the mirror and being fricken thrilled with the results!

So I went back to my dentist today, so he could make the adjustments that will let me chew something other than my own flesh. But I also tried to psyche myself up to ask him to help me one last time, to see if I could get more… aw, fuck, I’ll just say it – more attractive results than just “not bad”.

I squirmed at the mere thought of expressing less than complete satisfaction, and asking for more help. To say that he has gone above and beyond is a gross understatement! Outside of loved ones, he’s given me the most respect, care, and effort of anyone *by far* during this ordeal (actually, ever, from any medical professional), and yet he’s been the least financially compensated. This chafes at my sense of fairness like you wouldn’t believe! And as for the lab  – they’ve already made whole new prosthetics once at their own expense because I we weren’t satisfied with the first ones, so….

This is the kind of situation that my old, deeply ingrained, childhood doctrine really feeds off. I already feel like I’ve been a bother – an inconvenience – and it’s difficult for me to convince myself that I should expect, want, or push for more. Now I was going to try to convince a businessman who has already been incredible, and who has undoubtedly taken a financial loss on my case overall, that I deserve more of his time? More of his effort? More than just “okay”?

I love this man. Not jump-his-bones love (although he is quite cute), but there’s certainly some hero love adding up. He was incredible today. I didn’t even have to ask him. He wasn’t satisfied with the “okay” appearance either, and he said that unless and until I’m completely happy, we’re not done. He’ll make the lab do it again. And if that doesn’t work, we’ll go to another lab. There just was no question about it. No hesitation. No impatience. No judgment.

He’s already been paid, less than he’s earned, and yet he’s willing to continue to help me. But it’s not that he’s willing to still help me, which alone is staggering enough. It’s that he’s standing in front and saying he’ll fight *for* me, even though there’s no more money, and even when I’m not so sure I have the confidence or the energy left to fight for myself.

I don’t know how to deal with that. It’s just one of several new, unprecedented things happening in my life, that are changing who I am.