Stacy Horn

Everyone is talking about it, and with good reason. On March 15, a Prince George’s Community College student named Stephon, who was born deaf, went to an energy policy event in Maryland where the President gave a speech. Afterwards, while waiting to try to shake his hand, Stephon signed, “I’m proud of you.” And Obama signed back, “Thank you.”

You can see it here. Another sweet, sweet moment brought to you by our president (and Stephon).

Dental News: I panicked this morning because I still need pain killers around the clock and when I googled to see how long this might last, almost everyone I read who had this kind of bone graft said their pain lasted three days. The ones whose pain lasted longer had infections and their bone grafts failed! I called my dentist and saw him right away. He said I was actually healing very nicely, and that my bone graft was a much bigger deal than the three-days-painfree people, and mine was very invasive involving a big and sensitive area, etc. So I feel better about it all.

I went to choir rehearsal last night even though I’m having a little trouble smiling and talking and singing. It was the right decision, it improved my mood enormously. A picture of my walk along the way. This is 11th Street. New York City is so pretty!

I describe this very block in my book about singing, and what it will look like in a few weeks (or month) when those petals begin to fall.

I wonder how people with serious illnesses do it. I’m supposed to take pain killers every six hours except I’m lucky if I make five, and I’ve already been in pain for an hour or two by then.

It’s better if I take the Vicodin, but I can only take Vicodin following a full meal or else I get sick, and then I always feel so sad after. Also, I don’t like feeling groggy and light-headed during the day. All those scenes of House popping Vicodin all day long seem implausible to me now. I’m getting by on Advil and Tylenol mostly.

You’re all probably sick of hearing about this. I want my old mouth back!! What else can I talk about? I saw the movie Portrait of Jennie yesterday. It was so wonderfully transportive, it made me happy. Afterwards I looked around for a copy of the book at a reasonable rate. I found one at a place I won’t mention, because I can’t get there until tomorrow and I am afraid it might get snatched up by then.

One of my mood regulators. When the cats are fed and happy, I’m happy.

It’s day three following my bone graft and I’m just getting less and less presentable. But I carefully brushed my teeth and showered and I feel a thousand million times better.

I wonder what it’s like out there? A lot of drunken college kids probably. I’m not missing anything. I took this on the way to my bone graft, when life was still sweet and pretty. And I didn’t have a face that makes my cats scream.

Backstory: I’m getting a dental implant on one of my front teeth, and yesterday I had a bone graft. I don’t want to scare anyone who is considering getting an implant, or is about to begin the process. Plenty of people did not experience what I’m currently going through. I also had a bone graft done on a large area.

My first mistake: I walked home after my bone graft. But I needed to unwind, to shake the whole morning off. By the time I got home I was in agony and blood started pouring out of my mouth. (Not exaggerating, pouring.) The dentist told me to wet tea bags and hold them against that area which meant I had a mouth full of tea bags for ten minutes. But it worked.

By this time my face had swollen to inhuman proportions. I wasn’t supposed to take the pain killers on an empty stomach (three Advil plus one Vicodin) but my mouth was a wreck. How was I supposed to eat? I managed to work in some yogurt in by gently placing it in the side.

THEN, THEN, THEN, Con Ed turned off the gas in my building because apparently the landlord never fixed all the leaks the last time the building filled with gas. Christ. Can you believe this timing?? So I had to go out and grocery shop all swollen, in pain, because the food I bought in preparation for the next few days requires an oven. I held a dish cloth in front of my face and everyone stared at me.

I woke up more swollen than ever, even though I’d iced my face until I fell asleep. Oh. The pain killers have just started kicking in. I’m feeling dizzy. Back to the couch for now.

I took this minutes before I got home. If you can see my reflection, that white thing in my hand is a bag of painkillers.

Once a year I go up to Mt. Sinai Hospital to get checked out as part of a World Trade Center Monitoring and Health program (I was a volunteer at the site, for those who may not know). But the funds were only for seven years so that was my last check up.

I’m fine so far though. I’m waiting for more test results which I’m sure will also be fine, but I’ve grown taller, which is the weirdest, weirdest thing. I already knew, I found out accidentally a couple of months ago. I decided this must be from the swimming, from all the constant stretching, stretching, stretching, and according to what I learned googling, this could be the reason. I’m now a little over 5′ 3″ (I forget how much). I used to be 5′ 2 1/2″. I know, not a lot, but I love being able to say I’m 5′ 3″. I don’t know why.

Here are some pictures I took walking back home. First, looking toward the west side of Manhattan across the Central Park Reservoir.

Looking past the daffodils (in the winter) to the Metropolitan Museum.

An agressive goat at the Central Park petting zoo (the second one from the left, the parent pulled her child away).

Walking down Fifth Avenue, that’s the Empire State Building in the distance (I’m at 59th, the Empire State Building is at 34th).