Drill, Baby, Drill!

Okay, I admit it.  I dislike going to the dentist.  Most of us do.  I don't "hate" it so much anymore, mostly because my dentist is awesome, but it still totally sucks.  And also like a lot of us, while I worry about my family's health, I tend to neglect my own.

So after far too long a stretch of tooth pain which, at one point, interfered with my ingestion of margaritas (Gasp!), and ultimately interfered with...bum bum BUM!...eating sushi, I went to the dentist. I saw the doc last Wednesday for a cleaning and a chastising and a filling.  Turns out that the cavity *under* a filling had actually gotten worse, so he had to drill it out and redo it.  Afterwards he tells me that there's a pretty good chance that the filling isn't going to work and I'll wind up needing a root canal.  What I like about him is that he doesn't bullshit me, he tells me stuff straight up *AND* he pays attention to my anesthetic needs. This one was rough though, there was a spot that refused to stop recognising the cold air from the suction that the assistant person was holding in my mouth.  Yeah, I know that sounds a little dirty, bite me.  You weren't there.  It hurt like a fucker.

Fast forward to Friday night..I've got a touch of insomnia and I have to work Saturday morning.  About 2:30-3ish, Im feeling the need for a nosh.  Aha, we've got smoked salmon in the fridge and Webba's a happy bagel-eater!  Yeah, that sounds a little dirty too.  Again, bite me.  Suddenly, I am in pain.  Doc'd warned me that I was going to be uncomfortable for a few days, but wow...Pain with a capital P.  So I pop Motrin and slather on the Ora-jel and pray for sleep.  I set the alarm for 7 but cruelly woke up at 5:45.  Yep, about 2 and a half hours sleep.  Niiiiice.  Pain and tired, always a winning combination.

I tried calling the denstist MANY times during my shift, but no luck.  Turns out his answering machine wasn't working right.  The office was incredibly apologetic today when I finally got through to them.  But Saturday, no luck.  I came home and cried.  It hurt sooo bad.  NCB and the vampire were great though.  NCB wanted to take me to the ER because the pain was so bad, but I compromised by calling the advice nurse and finally got to speak to a doctor.  I explained (for the third time...gotta love Kaiser) the problem and he prescribed me something called Tramadol.  Ho-leee shit, that's strong stuff!  From Saturday evening through Monday morning, I slept.  At one point on Sunday, I realised I was hungry and reasoned out that I could probably eat a tuna sammich fairly successfully and I knew we had all the stuff.  I dragged my ass up, pulled clothes on and zombie-walked into the kitchen.  I took the cans from the cupboard, got the cheese from the fridge and....I couldn't do it.  I could not make the sammich myself.  I had to wuss out and go back to bed.  NCB wound up fixing my lunch and brought it to me in bed.  Later on that day, he came to check on me and realised I was in the bathroom.  He promptly chastised me for not having him help me walk in there.  Hint: Tramadol's worst side effects are dizziness and nausea.  And oh my god, is Tramadol goooood at those side effects.

This weekend has further proven to me that I found the right man.  My wonderful Naked Coffee Boy took such good care of me.  He made sure I had anything I needed, took my drugs like I was supposed to, helped me get dressed and undressed while I was stoned.  He was, and is, amazing and beautiful and I am so thankful that he is in my life.  I love you, Schmoop.

I called my boss last night to let her know what was up and that I might have to leave early today to go to the dentist.  She was great and basically just told me to keep her posted.  I finally got through to my dentist about 10 this morning and the office was able to get me into an endodontist this afternoon for the root canal.  They were amazing.  The staff was kind and understanding.  I lost it a little bit when the gal behind the desk told me it was going to be nearly 500 bucks though.  I couldn't help it, I broke and cried.   My dentist told me that a root canal would be covered 100% by my insurance, but it turned out that this endodentist is out of network.  But Behind The Counter Gal talked to her doc and he said he was willing to accept the 80% my insurance would pay as full payment.  I cried a little more.  I apologised and thanked her and reassured her that I am normally much more badass that this but that I'd had a horrible weekend.  She was so kind and so reassuring.

The dentist rocked.  Im just gonna say it.  He fucking rocked.  He was kind of Doogie Howser-young, but foxier, very straight forward and charming, but not sleazy or gross.  He explained what he'd be doing and then as I mumbled questions during the procedure around the dental dam "tooth draping" contraption he put in my mouth, he answered them.  And they had dark glasses that fit over MY glasses! So I wasn't staring into the sun like it usually feels like at the dentist with those blinding overhead lights.  He even did the one thing I asked..no, begged of him.  He numbed the shit out of me.  Nu-umb!!  I was numb up to the eyeballs, and even my eyelid was kind of numb.  It was great!  After days of pain radiating into my temple, I was NUMB!!  Wahoooooo!  Bliss!

The whole thing took no time at all and I. felt. nothing.  The drilling sound awful and weird of course, and some of the contraptions were alarming, but I didn't feel ANYTHING.  I was so tired that I yawned a bunch of times.  He reassured me that if I fell asleep it was totally fine, but of course I didn't..he was drilling my tooth and that is just not conducive to napping.   Plus it had clearly been a long day for him...his stomach kept growling.

I've been warned that the next few days Im still going to hurt and given instructions to take the prescribed antibiotics and pain meds and see my regular dentist in about a week for the permanent filling.  
And while he's out of network with my insurance, I'd recommend him in a heartbeat.

I think it's time for a pain pill and my bed now.  Ima take advantage of this whole "numb" thing and try to sleep.

Shoulding all over ourselves

What is this weird current thought that says that it’s not okay to need positive reinforcement about our value from people close to us?  Why do we seem to be so convinced lately that we must know, in every moment of every day and with every breath, that we are exactly perfect just as we are?  Why is it wrong to want (or occasionally need) someone to remind us we’re wonderful once in awhile? 

It doesn’t help when every single commercial and every single magazine (and let me just say, “Fuck you, Cosmo”) tells us that we’re just not good enough.  We’re not thin enough, rich enough, wearing the right shoes/dress/mascara or whatever.  They tell us over and over again that no matter how hard we try, we cannot possibly be as good as we “should” be. 

I have one amazing, fabulous, beautiful friend who is in the process of learning, after having gone through some pretty serious shit the last few years, that she is, in fact, amazing, fabulous and beautiful.  Most days she seems to know she rocks, but from time to time the mean girls in her head tell her she’s not.  Let me just say this for the record:  The Mean Girls™ LIE.  They are more full of shit than your lower intestine.  But sometimes….well, sometimes they’re just louder and harder to ignore.  And to top it all off, this phenomenal woman supposed to be a totally emotionally-self-supportive rock?!  Fuck that.

These are the times when we get to lean on the people we love.  This is when we call our Badass Girlfriends Who Are Probably Just As Insecure Sometimes As We Are. And these women who we know are amazing, even when *they* doubt themselves (I know..shocking, right?), these wonderful friends remind us that we’re just as amazing.  That they’re just as inspired by our courage and strength and innate glory as we are of theirs. 

Here’s the thing:  You don’t get to be a grownup without collecting some baggage.  We all have it and a lot of it sucks.  The reality is that you simply cannot reach adulthood without schlepping some along with you.  The trick is to keep it fitting in the overhead compartment.  But just because maybe it’s a manageable size, doesn’t mean that you don’t occasionally need a hand lugging it up the stairs.

So stop picking on yourself.  Stop thinking that needing that reassurance from time to time means that you don’t actually rock, because you do. If the Mean Girls™ start giving you shit, pour them a glass of wine and tell them they’re wrong about you.  They’re wrong about themselves too.  Because they’re you and you’re them and you should really be nicer to each other.

I love you.  You are amazing and beautiful and glorious and inspiring and I’ll tell you that just as often as you need to hear it and even when you don’t, just because you deserve to hear it and I believe in telling the truth.

“You should believe in yourself so hard you shit your pants” 

--@lifecoachers via Twitter

~W

F*cking crying

I cry easily.  It pisses me off sometimes.  Crying has always been how I unload, when I am unbelievably stressed out and tired and and broke and stretched too thin and not taking care of myself/getting enough sleep/wearing a coat because it's cold out and don't I know Im going to catch my death of a cold/everything else my mother always lectured me to do.

Sometimes I cry because something is just so beautiful, so ineffably unspeakably amazing and awe-filled, I just can't help but weep.  Music does it sometimes, or a glorious sunset, or the sudden realisation that the Universe in all Her infinite grace just fucking loves me.

Or a long distance commercial.  Or that one...you know the one for the SPCA with Sarah Mclachlan singing and all the dogs and the kitten with a cast on its paw?  Yeah, that one.  Those fuckers get me every time.

Today I cried out of pure frustration.  In my office.  Twice.

And there were witnesses.  Yeah....both times.

At least it wasn't actually about work.  I was losing my mind at my doctor's office.  Yes, what I have going on is important and alarming and painful and ugly and totally doing wonders for my ego and no, it's probably not going to kill me or cause permanent damage to my already bad vision (probably anyway, though it's kind of actually a real concern) and yes, I've spoken to the advice nurse and the office nurse and a few other people and I finally got this goddamned "urgent" appointment (two days later, but who's counting?) and NO YOU MAY NOT CANCEL IT!

So I complained as politely as a woman can when her eyelids are flaking off her face one layer of skin at a time (thanks, Seasonal Allergies, for this new and 'interesting' symptom).  I still have that appointment, just a little bit later in the morning, but Im okay with that.  When I apologised to the nurse for getting mad at her, she laughed and told me I was the nicest mad person she's ever dealt with and why can't all her patients get mad at her like I did?  A weird compliment but it made me laugh a little as I hung up.

Hopefully tomorrow I won't cry and I will get some relief for whatever the hell it is that my eyes are doing.  My doc (an NP actually) rocks.  If you have Kaiser and live in Sacramento and want a good adult medicine provider, let me know.  I'll happily give you her name and number.

My day did get better.  Much better.  I came home to my lovely Naked Coffee Boy who, with the help of the Vampire Child (his oh-so-13 year old daughter), fixed homemade potato soup, made with half-n-half and cheese and BACON.  It was like a warm creamy bowl of baked potato-ness...pure joy.

~W

PS...the SPCA is an amazing organisation.  My Baxter was a shelter dog and has grown into a wonderful buddy.  Save a life, adopt a pet.

Starting...

So, yeah, I've got three thoughts on pretty much everything.  I try to see both sides of an argument and frankly, that's often to my detriment.  Call it my "Gemini Moon" if you're so inclined.  Mostly all it means is that I have trouble making decisions sometimes.

I've been thinking about starting a blog for awhile and recently another friend mentioned she was thinking about it and I read a chick lit novel about a gal who blogged and I thought, 'what the fuck...I can do that.  I write pretty well and maybe people might be interested and even if they're not, I like to write'.  And here I am.

Just so you can't say later that I wasn't honest, Im not here to reveal any major political insights or break any stories that'll win me the Pulitzer.  I'll probably ramble.  I do that.  I figure that's okay though, since this is my blog.  I suspect that sometimes I'll be funny and others I'll be sad and I'll do some bitching, and I might even offend or piss you off once in awhile.  So let's see how it goes, shall we?

~W