Once I was a leg bone — Now I am JawBone. Are you listening?
Greetings GreenBones. May your limbs always be-longing. May you leap into regeneration.
I give you this small gift, a name — GreenBones. Do you feel how it holds you? Do you know how to carry a name? Do you feel the way it lifts you, to carry you further?
As for me, I had no need for names before I was un-bedded and borrowed. Not even one. Now I have many.
Once I was a leg bone — Now I am JawBone. Before I ran into a lightmare and leapt, I was simply one with HerBeing. I needed no words to walk. Nameless, I never questioned my meaning — I danced in it.
Then came a slice of time, when surgeons sharpened the meaning of words like opening and closing, connected and alone, self and other. Now I have learned how to talk, I will tell you my story — from the inside. The physicians have their words here too. They will carve their path around mine.
Are you listening?
PERIOPERATIVE DIAGNOSIS
Her biopsy results confirmed malignant cancer of the peri facial node on the left mandible. I recommend complete surgical removal of the affected bone, followed by reconstruction of the jaw using grafted fibula bone. Some tissue and skin attached to the fibula can also be used in reconstruction of the gums.
Slicing into my story, I met the cutting edge of the surgeon’s plan as the world unpeeled around me. All my bone truths began to seep out and into the lightmare of the operating room.
HARVESTING THE BONE
I made a distal cut on the fibula and another cut approximately 7 cm below the fibulae head.I then harvested the bone flap along with adjacent tissue, blood vessels and skin, and brought it up to the field.
Your grandmother did not feel this slice through my story, did not hear how bones scream, or see my severed self.
Once I was a leg bone — Now I was alone, and I had never walked alone before. I was still alive — but not living.
Grief swallowed me whole. I longed to be back in HerBeing, even a StillBeing. I had no words for this bone truth as it shattered me — We Are All Connected.
Then, hope seeped in with a question. Is this the end of the story, or the beginning? How do I rise up to see?
I did not understand being alone. But once I was leg bone, and I know what it means to just keep walking.
My spirit lifted to claim me like sinew, connecting me back to my meaning. I found the gift of my first name.
Once I was a leg bone, plucked from the deep. Now I was a WishBone, ready to leap.
CONTOURING THE BONE
After detaching the fibula from the donor site, we modeled it according to the template.
Once I believed all was lost — I was wrong. When hope carves its name across your face, you learn this bone truth. Not everything you believe in your lightmare is real.
The surgeon cut me into a shape to fit his plans. It was all still a puzzle to me. As I turned within my own mystery I did not understand, but I felt a new direction tugging at me.
After all, once I was a leg bone. When she leans into a curve, I know how to carry the load. I know how to turn. I know how to leap.
GRAFTING THE BONE
The modeled fibula was inserted between the mandibular stumps and fixed to the plate with multiple screws. I sutered the tissue and skin into position.
The surgeon tucked me back into her chin, facing new life. He tethered me with a titanium chain, as if I wanted to be anywhere else in the world. Screw by screw, stitch by stitch, I was re-homed, pulsing with hope, listening to the hush-hush of the flow.
Nourished again, I could hear my sister bones whisper: We Are All Connected. We Are All Connected. Again.
PATHOLOGY REPORT:
Frozen sections margins were taken from the tumor bed all of which were negative for carcinoma.
After I nestled back into the deep, the team of surgeons paused to look at their work. I could hear them talking about the successful procedure, her vitals, her margins, her mandible. They were all very proud of her mandible. I felt proud too, even in my rawness — as they talked about me.
My first name is WishBone, I found it alone.
My second name is HerMandible. I took it as a gift.
SURGICAL OUTCOME:
The eight-hour surgery was completed with no apparent complications. The patient was moved to the recovery room.
Time passed and my raw edges knitted new. Your grandmother dragged her bones to a basement as the lightmare grew darker.
POST SURGICAL RECOMMENDATIONS:
She still has a high risk of local cancer recurrence as the tumor was wrapped around the mandible and extended into the area soft tissues.I recommend she undergo external irradiation to the primary site and left neck with partial sparing of some salivary gland functions. Concomitant weekly chemotherapy is also recommended.
I was masked in mesh, locked down and interrogated in the jaws of a machine. Dark light filtered down on a toxic path. Day after day, radiation stared right through me, as if I didn’t exist. After a while, even I stopped believing I was as solid as bone.
I had not spoken to your grandmother. Pain made us both mute. There was nothing more to say. When everything solid burns away, you hold this bone truth: Only kindness means anything.
PHYSICAL EXAMINATION:
She is maintaining fairly good general condition. She is tolerating the weekly systemic chemotherapy along with daily external radiation, except for usual side effects of mucositis, skin erythema, difficulty swallowing even liquids, etc.
That is behind us now.
Picking up my third name: BurntOffering, I paused and lightened, leaving the ashes behind. I will always face forward.
After time passed, your grandmother grew strong enough to hike.
Once, when I was a leg bone, I would take the whole trail in my stride, but now as Jawbone, I was perched like a bird on a branch as the trail unfolded beneath me. Watching resilience rise up to meet me.
I saw the forest floor charred by wildfire, and a burned Sequoia still strong. Wrapped in black bark, nestled in forest, struck by fire, it was rising from ashes.
It was time for me to rise too, and in a flash of alighting, I was claimed by a flock of names.
Once I was a leg bone — Now I am JawBone. Once I needed no names. Now I have many.
In the charred forest rising, I heard my many names calling me in a BoneSong.
HushDeep, HopeLeap, AshBright, LyricLight
ForestDark, FierceSpark, GreenChance, WingDance,
SpireLight, GyreFlight, SilverBlaze, LumenGaze
As I answered the call of my names, they lifted me to carry me further. When I whispered my BoneSong in the Redwoods, your grandmother began to listen.
GreenBones, now you know how my names carried me beyond a lightmare.
My first name called me to keep walking and find a new path. I answer to WishBone, as I turn and leap into new meaning.
My name-day gift from the surgeon, HerMandible, invited me to connect with my words, when once, I just ran.
I left the ashes behind and picked up my third name, BurntOffering — remembering the loss, how far we have come, how strong we can be.
I stand taller now, rising and alighting. BoneSong is calling me to carve my names in deep peace across the face of the Sun.
My names bind me to HerStory. As do yours, GreenBones. May your limbs always be-longing as you leap into your regeneration.
Mokopuna, now you know Jawbone’s story. Maybe it’s all too lofty, this tall tale of ascension? You still can’t believe my jawbone can ‘talk’?
I hear you. But then I hear her too.
Here’s the thing that no one tells you about healing. They don’t warn you about the side effects of gratitude: the heart-turn, the irony-deficient fizzy-spells, the hot-flashing hope. Jawbone was unbedded, and I borrowed her. Now I bite down again, I talk — savoring each word. There was a time when I took that for granted. Now I don’t.
Instead I follow Jawbone’s lead — facing forward. I look ahead to you, Mokopuna.
Are you still listening? Do you understand what I’m saying?
Will you search for your own bone truth, unbed it and believe it?
Will you give it as a gift to your future as you rise up and shelter the sky, as you stream down to nourish the earth?
Read Part IV
Other stories in the series:
Part I: How Maui Slowed the Sun is a memoir describing a jaw surgery in which fibula bone is transplanted to replace diseased jawbone — and how myth can reconnect us in healing.
Part II: Whispering in the Redwoods is a conversation with an inner voice, following a trail into deeper healing.
Other stories by Pamela Edwards
