It's about the positioner that I have to wear right now, after I got my braces off. Apparently my orthodontist is one of the few that uses them, but 10 days of it is supposed to replaced 6-9 months of braces!
The Positioner
A memoir by Robert Marshall
It is a clear and sunny day. My father and I are driving down the road, towards my orthodontist. Today is the day that I get these infernal metal brackets off my teeth. Two and a half years of sharp metallic agony in my mouth and it’s finally over. We pull into the parking lot, and my dad drops me off, so I can go and sign in. A light summery rain begins to sprinkle down, not dampening my mood, but raising it in a sparkly refreshing way.
After waiting for a few minutes, I am called into the brightly lit room, where they will remove my braces. I sit down, and they get to work right away, quickly and painlessly removing those dreadful pieces of equipment from my teeth. I glance over at the window, and I see the rain has begun pouring down, and it is much darker outside than before. I look back up and see my orthodontist with a clear plastic mould of my teeth. Thunder strikes, filling the air with a low drum roll, sounding like some sort of morbid parade of death.
“You will wear this positioner 23 hours a day, for 10 days,” says Dr O’Neil, as thunder strikes again. “You can only take it out to eat.”
As I am about to respond, he thrusts the plastic tool of torture into my mouth. I feel instant pain as the mould attempts to push and pull my teeth, contorting their positions into perfection.
* * *
I walk into school out of the torrential rain, an explanatory note in hand. I meet up with the first person who would want to talk to me, and before they can say anything, I thrust the note into their hand.
“So, you can’t talk, eh?” they ask. “That must suck,” is mumbled, as they quickly turn and walk away, looking for a two way conversation and turning their back on the struggle that would ensue if they had tried to continue talking to me. All the while every tooth is emitting a throbbing pain. My whole mouth is a dark void of stale air and pain.
I walk quickly, to avoid any other meetings with others, and head upstairs to my first class. As I walk into the room, I hand my note to my teacher. He gives a solemn, uncaring nod, and I sit down. Class starts, and the true pain begins. Right off the bat, what I had hoped wouldn’t happen, happens. I had to endure the incredible torture of being the only one in the class that knows where the teacher is leading us, and not being able to say a thing. I sat feeling alone in the crowded room of students, watching as one after another gives the wrong answer, or says nothing at all. Finally the teacher gives up and tells us the answer, and I feel like a part of the group that couldn’t get it right, even though I knew the answer. All of this is because of a ridiculous plastic orthodontic positioning device.
This will continue for ten days, as most likely will the horrendously wet weather. The aching pain and the mute loneliness will be all I have for two weeks. The inane chatter that we all take for granted never looked so go to me. All that I can hope for now is that I will survive until I can talk, breathe and be myself, with my friends, again.
that really touched me *wipes tear away*
