Announcing Bell's Before it Announces Itself (or, "Oh, Poop!")

 "Oh, poop!" My neighbor didn't mince words. She'd stopped her car, catching hubby and I on a short walk.  

Her jaw dropped.  She pointed to her face.  "What?" 

The "oh, poop!" was her response to my BP news. 

Last week we'd run into each other twice: shopping for an event that didn't need a new outfit but certainly didn't discourage it, and then at the event itself.  We'd been glitzed and glammed.  And symmetrical. 

Now one of us was very much not symmetrical. 

My asymmetry announced itself.  

Here is where my personal and professional lives intersect.  One of my areas of interest is Disability Studies.  It is a theoretical perspective that analyzes how items like language, media, social systems, and the law influence a person's experience with disability, and how others understand it. That is the quick version, and my nerdy self is holding back. (Later there will be much more!) 

The main thing, for this post, is that DS identifies two types of disability: invisible vs. visible disabilities.  

Invisible disabilities are things like chronic conditions--Lyme Disease, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Lupus, and even, now, Long COVID--unpredictable, debilitating, but largely not visible.  

Diabetes is an invisible disability.  Very few people know I am diabetic unless I tell them. With this, I get to decide who knows I am diabetic, and when they know.  Although I am open about it, I get to control the narrative.  Most of the time. 

There is nothing invisible about Bell's.  It announces itself. 

The interaction with my neighbor was the first out of hundreds of moments of furrowed brows ("do I say anything?"), questions and well-meaning assurance , and moments of "Mom--what's wrong with her face?!" or "Wow's".

As far as the "first" unmediated one goes--it was pretty good. "Oh, Poop!" indeed. 

But I have been trying to avoid those as much as possible.  

As my face remodeled itself last week, I decided to get out in front of Bell's in every way I can.

This is for others as much as myself. For me, it means I can decrease the number of shock and awe moments--something I very much need. For others--knowledge is power, and can decrease awkwardness ("Do I pretend I don't notice....?") and "oh, shoot!" moments.  

First thing Wednesday morning, after my Tuesday BP diagnosis, I emailed my department members and several people I see regularly.  It was a "hey, Halloween came early this year" kind of email. I kept it light, but let them know that I looked different.  Several thanked me, and several stopped by to say "hey."  A dear colleague came by and listened when I very much needed an ear. 

The priority for my Wednesday 10 am was to explain to my students what they were seeing.  I also kept it light, and gave them opportunities to ask questions. Then, I started lecture....and realized how hard it is to talk for prolonged periods, especially as one gets thirsty and it is hard to drink.  So I felt no shame guilting them into participation: "Look, folks," I said.  "If I can be here with this" (pointing to my face) "you can participate and pretend like you care."  It worked.  They actually clapped out syllables of our poem (and seemed to, reluctantly, enjoy it). 

Things have gotten more interesting since Wednesday.  In addition to losing more elasticity in my face, I have added COVID and a violent reaction to my Bell's treatment. I have had to cancel Zoom classes, and try to plan ahead.  

What I don't want is for people to think that Bell's is the issue--nope, the issue is its treatment (and COVID's hazy timelines).  

So, once again: I am trying to get out in front of things.  

I have not seen my first-year students since Tuesday, and two colleagues rearranged their schedules to cover my classes (thank you!!)  I have recorded a short podcast for each of them.  In addition to housekeeping items (like "Don't freak out about meeting the word count when you have not started writing yet!") I have a bit about Bell's Palsy, what I look like, and the reason I am not in class.  

I am hoping to get out ahead of this as much as possible.  There is not a lot I can control, but I am finding it is a lot easier to be out and about when I have been able to announce my condition before it announces itself.