A quick check in the bathroom mirror disabused me of the notion that I was going to be Happy Gilmore. It looked like Predator had stopped over at my place to take a whiz. My lower jaw was hanging in two different directions and most of my lower teeth looked like they were gone.

20th Century Fox
Unfortunately, getting punched in the face does not give you powers of invisibility.

This was not a waggle-daggle your head and get back to regular business scenario. This was 911 stuff. I no longer had a phone, so the nice lady next door won the blood-spitting-smashed-face-neighbor surprise doorbell lottery.

After 18 hours in the ER, I got good news -- all my teeth were intact (well, for now -- more about that later) -- and bad news -- my lower jaw and left cheek were "interestingly" fractured. My mouth was going to be wired shut. FOR 10 WEEKS.

Anita Serwacki
"The things we did last summer, I'll remember all winter long ..." (actual X-ray!)

As it turns out, I was pretty fortunate I didn't get killed. All the ridiculous "knock-out game" hysteria aside, one solid punch can easily be fatal.

While not common, a mandibular fracture (fancy talk for broken jaw that makes you sound like a violated insect) can lead to a lacerated facial artery. "The whole inside of your mouth and throat would have filled with blood," my oral surgeon creep-cheerfully informed me. But normally when people do die after getting socked in the jaw, it's because they're standing up, then take a spill and crack their skull open on something. Same goes for being walloped in the nose (despite the myths, you're not in danger of having bone shards lodged in your brain from a nose punch). So, for once, sitting on my ass did me a solid.

Hospitals don't tend to carry "So We Just Sealed Up Your Mouth Like Some Kind of Goddamn Horror Movie. Now What?" pamphlets. In fact, they don't really give you any information at all on how to go on being a living human being. Luckily (at least for me, not for them) I have a few friends who have had their jaws wired up for significant spells, so I was given some advice.

Your mouth will taste like corpse, because all the blood that gushed about after you got punched in the face is still tucked into the crevices, just stinking it up in there under a thick layer of plaque build-up. And in the midst of that cauldron of gross, you're crammed full of barbed wire that is constantly slicing open the insides of your cheeks. You can't really brush your teeth, so the best chance you have at not developing scores of new cavities and nasty infections (which could even lead to having parts of your jaw removed!) is to blast a Waterpik filled with the strongest mouthwash you can tolerate, then cram tons of orthodontic wax in there.

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And, at least once a week, jam a sandblaster in there to clean up anything you might have missed.

What if you start to choke or puke? Good question! You will need to get those wires off in a hurry, so you will not die in a manner your family will be reluctant to print in an obituary. A small, sharp pair of jewelry wire-cutting scissors should remain on you at all times like a talisman.

And while not technically dangerous, there's one last thing you don't expect. A complex set of muscles in your upper jaw do not get used at all when your mouth is wired. These muscles will take this opportunity to become lazy and useless. The atrophy will cause your face to slide down your bones till you begin to resemble some kind of jowly Dick Tracy villain.

Touchstone Pictures
If I ever see that fat kid again, he's going under a freaking bus.

There are sadder words than "all liquid diet" -- like, "everyone you love was mauled by bears" -- but not when contemplating what you'll be sucking through straws for two and a half months. "Liquid" doesn't exactly have a broad spectrum, either.

During my first week I kept staring at a Shepherd's pie in my freezer because I WAS SO FUCKING HUNGRY. Then I thought, "Screw it." I was going to figure out a way to eat it. I heated the pie up and pureed it with a whole bunch of broth. It looked like a pile of dog vomit, but I had never wanted to eat something so badly in my life. Well ... too bad. No matter how hard I tried, the goo just mucked up on the front of that tooth fortress like sewer sludge. I worked on it for two hours before broken-heartedly tossing it in the garbage and then setting the entire world on fire in my mind.

Jupiterimages/Stockbyte/Getty Images
"YOU WILL ALL BURN IN THE FURNACE OF MY WRATH!"

Sadly, the only things that are going to keep you alive are: gross-ass nutrition drinks, protein powder, fancy juices, and pureed soups. A blender stick will be your goddamn frenemy.

Everyone says, "Oh, but at least you'll lose weight!" And you do. But not nearly what you'd imagine and/or hope. After not seeing me for two months, many of my friends thought I'd be some kind of walking skeleton. But I just looked like I'd maybe had the flu for a week. Why? BECAUSE I WAS ALWAYS FUCKING HUNGRY. You can easily be sucking down 3,000 calories a day while not otherwise physically moving your body because you're too exhausted from various vitamin and mineral deficiencies. And it's not like you're ever going to say to yourself, "Well, maybe I shouldn't have that seventh bowl of soup ..."

Stockbyte/Stockbyte/Getty Images
"Hey, Brain, shut the fuck up. I can still poison you with alcohol."

Don't think you're going to go on any steakhouse gluttony tour right after you get that metal mess out of your mouth, either. Those lazy muscles that made you look like Lip Manlis? They also won't let you chew actual food for at least two or three weeks after you regain mouth freedom. Chunks of $70 porterhouse would just tumble back onto your plate, saliva-damp and unmasticated.

You must diligently keep going to the dentist and have those areas monitored. If caught early, it'll be a root canal. But even then you still might wind up with extractions and faux chompers. Don't want zombie mouth? Then no more dodging those Garfield check-up reminder cards you get in the mail every six months.

Jim Davis
It's funny because it's asphyxiating!

Frankly, I don't think my lower teeth are going to make it in the long term. They don't feel right. They feel weak. Like they could give up and bring down my whole operation.

Did I mention I will throw that fat kid in front of a bus if I ever see him again?

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Or maybe a carriage. You get the nice bonus of a horse tea-bagging.