ם My Poor Uvula: A Sequel

In my last post, I told you about my brutally torn frenulum labii superioris. Inspired by such oral gore, my dear friend Michelle, in a comment, decided to share a tale of her friend who pierced “that thingy in the back of their throat.”

Friends, that little dangly thingy is your uvula. Why do I know what that’s called? You’d never guess.

As it were, I have also painfully and bloodily severed my uvula at one point in my life.

This happened when I was roughly six or seven, as best I can recall. A few months earlier, my sisters had received a hula hoop as a toy, and in due time it was broken into a number of pieces due to various bouts of neglect and abuse. That’s fine, we were creative kids, so we played with the pieces of hard rubber tube. They quickly became a trumpet-like toy, and we would make silly noises in them and laugh at how they came out.

And then disaster struck.

While the end was in my mouth, my older sister decided it would be hilarious to bop it on the end. This launched it into the back of my throat, where the hard, brittle plastic sliced right through my uvula.

Ouch. I coughed up some blood, and it hurt to swallow for a day or two, but it healed pretty rapidly.

And now you know my ridiculous history of oral injuries. Tune in next week when I regale you with my tales of orthodontia.

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