Bite your tongue.
The idiom is meant to be a Good Thing; keep the peace, not rock the boat, leave feathers unruffled and avoid offence or self-embarrassment. Let everyone think you’re a fool until you open your mouth and prove it is true.
But if you have experienced the off-the-scale agony of doing it for real, by accident or as a subconscious stress reliever, you’ll join me in terror of the taste of blood.
The latest time was the worst ever. My eyes were leaking as the top and bottom jaw tentatively reunited after the automatic open-jaw jerk of shock.
Then the swelling started. No swallowing without a wince. And the swelling grew. A bit later, bedtime beckoned, but the lure of shut-eye was accompanied by hideous visions of suffocation as an engorged tongue sealed off the airways.
How could this organ swell so much? Was there some kind of sudden allergy in this constant dish in my diet? Dark thoughts of a poisoner in my (really limited) midst lurked, even as I peered at the innocent couch dwellers.
I always bite my tongue. Mostly to keep my few remaining molars from eating themselves during the 24-hour grinding and clenching. Even in sleep.
So the more violent accidental bites are not uncommon. Sometimes – it’s truly a mystery how – the gnashers strike on the thin veiny thingy that latches the tongue at the bottom of a mouth. And the crippling cheek bite. The one that swells and gets rechewed, over and over, until you can make it through to healed, before it happens again. I even had some teeth filed down so they wouldn’t inflict such painful wounds.
I have learned it’s not just me – I apologised to the Ed, Zoubair Ayoob, when we were planning the week and it sounded like I’d hit the bottle during working hours. Slur after slur, noisy swallows and careful enunciation as I made sure not to get this stupid damned appendage hooked up again. Oh, how he laughed – not entirely unsympathetically, more in relief that it was my pain and suffering, and not one of his own bouts of biting.
And at how humiliating it is when you do it in company, other than family and friends.
After that chat, I had to consult Professor Google, and what a can of teeth that unearthed.
Stress and anxiety (duh, as they say) is the main reason for tongue chewing. Tongue biting could be anything from a simple bad “bite” or misaligned jaws, to a momentary cessation of function in a bit of your brain, or the early signs of dread disease.
Whatever you do, do not ask the prof yourself. As with most internet medicine, the causes and advice range from simple and clear, with suggestions to consult your medical professional, to death, doom and gloom hovering on your doorstep.
I remain mum. The dogs aren’t subject to a stream of verbal musings and I can’t even talk to myself.
Many times I have thanked mother nature that I do not have lion teeth, the crushing strength of a hyena’s jaw or a huge tongue like a giraffe. I can’t imagine trying to keep something that long under control in the oral cavity. As for people who pierce these sensitive organs, I have no words.
Even if it’s on the tip of your tongue, whatever you do, don’t bite your tongue for anything.
- Slogrove is news editor
The Independent on Saturday