A (Truly) Crooked Smile

It had been quite the summer. But it wasn't over yet; Ben, having decided to switch universities, was going on another college visit. I served as his faithful companion, and, of course, as his GPS. Starting in northeast Georgia, we hopped in the Brave Little Toaster and set out on our adventure.

I miss my baby... :(

When I woke up that morning, I noticed nothing amiss. One of my eyes felt a little heavy, but we started off (relatively) early in the morning. And this was before I started drinking coffee, so you can imagine that I wasn't the most perceptive of individuals at the time. 

Okay, okay, I'm not the most perceptive of individuals at all. But I digress.

The loss of sensation was odd. I don't know exactly when it happened, but eventually, half of my face was numb. As we left Lousiville, I contemplated the situation. 

I can't move half my face. That's weird.

We enter Indiana.

Have I had a stroke? I mean, isn't that what happens when you have a stroke? Can 17 year olds even have strokes? This is really weird. I wonder what my face looks like when I talk. Ugh, I hate this song.

I had to make a decision. I didn't have access to WebMD, but I didn't need the vague symptom checker to tell me something was wrong. 

Okay. Something is wrong.

"B, I'm gonna call Mom. Maybe she'll know what to do." 

I'm not going to guess what my brother said, but I'm sure it was some form of grunt or other sound effect that meant, "Yeah, that's probably a good idea." 

"Hey Mom."

"Hi sweetie, how's the trip? Are you guys having fun?"

"Ummm...Mom? I can't move half my face."

"What?"

"I can't move half my face. It doesn't move, Mom." 

I'm proud to say that I remained calm for the duration of the conversation. My mother, however, cannot make the same claim. 

"Okay, okay, well, you're going to your grandmother's house. Call her. Tell her what's going on. Have her take you to the emergency room." Now imagine that spoken with the rapidity of a tongue twister.

"Oh, I should go to the emergency room?" That hadn't occurred to me. Was it that serious?

My mom sighed. "Yes, Alicia. You need to go to the emergency room."

"Okay, I'll do that." 

Now, emergency room trips aren't exactly fun, but if you absolutely have to go, take my grandmother. After raising two boys with a horrifying propensity for injury, she is a pro. 

I got a CAT scan and a MRI to make sure my brain was okay. (Don't worry, there was one there. I checked.) I had to follow a flashlight and my reflexes tested. Meanwhile, my brother cancelled his visit to a certain college in Grand Rapids, Michigan. At some point, our youth pastor called.

"Yeah, I'm in Kalamazoo, with my grandparents. I was supposed to. No, I had to cancel. We had to take Ali to the emergency room. Oh no, she's fine. She just has some sort of weird facial tic."

For a writer, my brother has no dramatic flair.

The doctor came back, looking very important in his white coat, as doctors tend to do. "So, you have Bell's Palsy." My half of a facial expression must have communicated my confusion, because he explained. "That means your facial nerve gets irritated. When it swells, it gets pinched, and that causes it to be paralyzed."

Good. Not a stroke. 

"There's not a lot we can do. We'll give you some antibiotics and some artificial tears. And you need to make sure you tape your eye shut when you sleep to make sure it closes all the way." He scribbled a prescription. "Actually, I've never heard of someone getting it so young before, but that's a good thing. It means you should get the feeling back in a few weeks, with no real side effects."

"Good." I flashed half of my pearly whites and hopped down from the paper covered table. Just a few weeks. Few meant a small number. It was summer, so there was no need to go out in public. No photographic evidence. No one had to know about it beyond its role as a funny story I could tell later. Much, much later. Heck, road trip aside, the timing couldn't have been better!

Wait...when does school start?