What would you do if you knew you'd have excruciating pain in your face for the rest of your life . . . Pain like a drill, constantly penetrating your jaw, radiating upward?

My RSD diagnosis had been twelve years earlier. Mayo Clinic doctors told me not to have surgery unless it was life-threatening. Yet, I sat in the oral surgeon's, needing emergency surgery for a jaw infection. I made the surgeon aware of my RSD, requesting a block or neurological consult; he retorted that he'd never heard of RSD, in the jaw, and this needed to be done quickly, to stop it from spreading.

Returning to his office with excruciating pain two days post-surgery, the doctor snidely remarked that I had likely bitten down on a tortilla chip! No empathy, and what's more, no belief in the intensity of my pain. That was August. I returned to teaching in September, face throbbing and ill.

Now this pain is expressed in my self-portrait. Uncountable stellate ganglion blocks and many increases in pain medication have allowed me to cope. But I learned. In future, I will demand to be given a block to any part of my body needing surgery.

Art has long been a soothing, almost trans-like activity for me, helping me to endure my pain. But this particular painting was extremely cathartic, expressing my worst pain with art. Now, people will understand. I will send a copy to the oral surgeon!