I was taking Martin on his walk Saturday morning when I got what felt like a gnat in my mouth.
I started to spit it out... and then realized I couldn’t.
My lips wouldn’t pucker.
It was then I noticed that part of my face was tingly, like when you’re coming down from the anesthetic after a dentist appointment.
This awareness made me more than a little nervous, because people in my family have had strokes and I certainly didn’t want to add my name to that list.
So, when I got home I asked Kindra to keep an eye on me and let me know if she detected any other stroke-like symptoms.
The numbness got a little worse, and I developed a gripping headache behind my right ear that worried me more than I tried to let on. But that was all that happened on Saturday.
But alas. Come Sunday morning, there were new symptoms. Nothing worked on the right side of my face. When I talked, only the left side of my mouth moved, creating such a good Elvis impression that I took every opportunity to say “Aw, thankya. Thankyaverymuch.”
We had planned on going to the Renaissance Faire in Muskogee, but substituted a visit to the emergency room.
The ER hustled me back to a room, where the nurse had me do a couple of rudimentary tests - holding my arms out straight, raising my eyebrows.
Three minutes later, the doctor came in, did a couple more simple tests and said: “You have Bell’s Palsy.”
That sounded good to me. Practically anything other than an actual stroke would have sounded good.
After doing some reading, I discovered that Bell’s Palsy is caused by an inflammation of the seventh cranial nerve and causes paralysis of facial muscles on one side of the face. In my case, it was the right.
Lips, eyes, cheeks - all are affected. Even part of my tongue. I can’t close my right eye and have trouble saying words that require a pucker, like Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.
We had Mexican food on Monday and I could taste very little of my taco salad.
It’s a bummer wearing a patch over my right eye and using artificial tears a couple dozen times a day. Eating and drinking are problems with only half a functioning mouth. And I keep asking Kindra if I have crumbs or anything in my beard.
The good news is that Bell’s Palsy usually fades away like the hero in a Saturday afternoon western. Within in a month or two or maybe six, the symptoms go away.
And I keep reminding myself: It’s better than a stroke.