Dear Dr. Hottie

This is your nickname. Didn’t know that, did you? All my friends know it, however, because I’ve told them just how darned cute my surgeon is. Yes, you are one fine looking fella. When you’ve got your nose bumped up against mine, scrutinizing my jaw, I have to confess, my heart skips a beat or two.

But lately, I’m not feeling the love. Because four months after my maxillofacial (jaw) surgery, the inside of my mouth is still completely dead-as-a-doornail numb. My teeth feel like wooden stumps and my gums feel like concrete speed bumps. Go ahead, try pounding a nail into my gums or take a hammer to a tooth….see? Can’t feel a thing. And I’m getting just a teeny bit concerned that there could be permanent nerve damage as a result of this surgery.

So here’s the thing, Dr. Hottie: when I emailed my concerns to you recently, you responded and I swear, I could practically see your eyes roll and hear an audible sigh as I read your words.

“As I told you, nerve regeneration usually begins at month 3 and can take up to 18 months,” you wrote. Okay, yeah you have mentioned this before. But it was your next sentence that got my heart pounding, and not because of your deep, blue eyes. “And as I told you,” (another audible sigh) “20 percent of patients experience permanent nerve damage.”

Hold on there, Bucko. Did I read that right? 20 percent? Did you say 20 per friggin’ cent? Uh, no, I don’t think you mentioned that minor detail before. Because if somebody told me I had a one out of five chance of winning the Lottery, I’d buy a ticket. One out of five chance of kissing George Clooney, I’d pucker up. One out of five chance of never feeling the inside of my mouth again? I’m pretty sure I’d remember that, too.

And so, Dr. Hottie, I’m trying to be a patient patient. Honest. I’ll just continue my newfound appreciation for cottage cheese. Yogurt. Soup. Eggs. Really, I dun’t need no stinkin’ teeth, not when I have a handy-dandy blender to pulverize everything for me. In the meantime, you can continue rolling your eyes and reassuring me that, given time, the feeling in my mouth will return. Maybe. Perhaps.

Now might be a good time for me to buy that Lottery ticket. And pucker up.