British Accent

I refer to 2012 as my Year of Descent.

My prognosis offered no elbow room. My jaw had an anomaly that was waiting to burst since inception. The benign suffering had only one cure: remove the lower mandible and all its enamel dwellers. Harvest my leg-fibula and donate it to my mouth. 

I was discreetly hinted to prepare for acquaintance with three new things:

1) The need to practice smiling with my eyes.
2) My speech will not be clear.
3) I will walk with a limp.

My world was about to take on a different spin.

1) I smile a lot.
2) I talk a lot.
3) I run a lot.

The relationship of faith and science has long been debated ad infinitum.

In my own world, however ... the barrier was lifted without a fight.

I strongly believe that the deepest realities of scientific knowledge are subservient to unbridled faith.

But where does one go for such arrangement?

I found mine after my involved surgery.

1) Although bloated like a cucumber, I began smiling not only with my eyes.
2) Although I love Asian diction, I just sound more British now.
3) Although I probably won't do the marathon, I now gallop.

This is not my face today. I just keep it to remind me of better days.

swollen smile a week after a 12-hour surgical strike

swollen smile a week after a 12-hour surgical strike