Toothaches and Allergies and Coke Bottle Glasses

I went to the dentist Wednesday for my routine cleaning and exam. Everything felt great in my mouth and I told them so as I plopped down into the chair. The hygienist informed me that my right back molar was likely going to require a crown at some point because a very large filling (and probably pretty old) was starting to deteriorate and it would be too hard to try and put a new filling in there, hence, the crown. Hey, this happens. I already have three of them due to the same reason. Also, they reminded me, the tooth next to it may flare up at any time because the root canal done on it years ago wasn't done very well. When/if it flares up, I'll get to go to a specialist so they can repair the damage. But, anyway, all of this was stuff to worry about another day. Or, so I thought!

Why IS it that your teeth feel fine when you go to the dentist but then you get a toothache? This is what is going on with me now. The problem is, I am not sure which tooth it is, the root canal tooth or the huge old cavity tooth. In any case, my mouth started throbbing but good Wednesday night. My typical pain killing plan of action, Aleve, did nothing to alleviate the discomfort. Thankfully, Mr. B has a stash of REAL pain killers left over from various back problems he's had. I took a Percocet and it knocked me out. I woke up yesterday feeling a lot better; no pain at all (albeit I did wake up an hour and a half later than I usually do).

I decided to go to one of those eye vision places to get a pair of cheap glasses since my good pair broke almost two years ago and I've been wearing a pair that I got when I was still married to my first husband. As an aside, cheap glasses do not compute for someone who is as nearsighted as I am because I have to get the high index lenses plus get the edges of the lenses brushed so I don't look as though I'm wearing Coke bottles and my head doesn't continually drop forward due to the incredible weight.

Anyway, I walked into the glasses store and encountered two of the slowest customer service employees I've ever met in my life. Both of them were old (as in "older than me"). The first one, a man, got off subject and started asking me questions about my contact lenses (this when I said I only wear glasses in the evening when I take my contact lenses out). He wanted to know how long I wear them, how long they last (meaning weeks), and why do I take them out when I take them out? Add to this irrelevant conversation the fact it took him three times as long as what I consider normal to get words out of his mouth and he kept squinting at me and holding his head as if he were about ready to drop dead of something, well, I started to get a tad antsy.

One personality trait I'm trying to develop in myself is patience. Seriously; it's on my "To Do" list to work on my impatience/hot temper flare ups. Well, yesterday was an AFOG moment, let me assure you, what with Old Geezer Dude going on about contact lenses when I was there to get glasses (HELLO); then, his counterpart, Old Geezer Broad took forever to type in my order once we'd finally settled on the glasses (and the sunglasses, thrown in for free). By this time, my mouth was back in full throb mode and it was taking the entire measure of my resolve not to blow my top.

After I left, I drove straight home (even though I'd planned on running several more errands). I contemplated popping another Percocet but decided I'd wait to see if I could tough it out. I did call the dentist office to make an appointment for Monday morning to get this checked out (they are closed today for Good Friday; I figured I could tough it out over the weekend, especially since I've got "The Stash" if I need it). Amazingly enough, the toothache went away for about three hours. I mean, it vanished. I was pretty jazzed until it returned for a command performance right around the time Mr. B got home from work. He was probably wishing I'd popped that Percocet because I was fairly grouchy.

Anyway, the bottom line is, I took another P-Pill last night before bed and, as of 10:15 am, I'm doing ok but I can sense that the pain is lurking, waiting for the effect of the P-Pill to wear off. I'm sort of house bound now because I don't want to be driving while this is in my system. I don't feel impaired so much as I feel a bit ditzy. So, happy Easter weekend. Yey.

On top of it all, my allergies are bothering me. My ears hurt and I feel like there are bugs crawling on me (I have no idea why I get this particular reaction to seasonal crap, but, I do). Oh, and it's now tick season and I keep thinking I'm seeing ticks everywhere (which doesn't help with the creepy crawly feeling).

One final note before I sign off from my little bitch fest here; I have NO idea what is going on with Pete, but, the entire time I've been writing this, he's been out in the sun room "talking". He hasn't shut up. I can see Lily laying on the couch with her eyes scrunched closed as if she's trying to sleep and tune him out; he's just going on and on in that weird Maine Coon way; something between a meow and a coo. It's hard to describe. In the meantime, The Little Kids are tearing around the house like the little hell on wheels that they are and Lucy is outside pacing because she wants back INSIDE.

Later.

Mrs. B

Comfort

In general, there seems to be plenty to be miserable about right now. I am thinking about the stock market and how much money we (and everyone else) have lost and that we can, really, do nothing about it. If we were of the mind to hide money under a mattress, we should have pulled it out a long time ago. Like a wayward gal that "almost didn't get pregnant" because her swain "almost pulled it out in time", so goes some of our money (but in or case "down", rather than "up", shit creek).

I guess I brought up the pregnancy analogy because I had to go to "that" doctor today for something. No, I'M not pregnant (but, my oh my, wouldn't THAT cause some excitement!); no, my OB GYN typically serves as my GP since I'm hardly ever sick. And, obviously, in an OB GYN's office, you're gonna see pregnant females (although none near as entertaining as "Juno"!)And, oh, guess what; talk about having something ELSE to feel crappy about; they weighed me (I hate that) and I weigh more than I've ever weighed in my life. Now, I don't think I look fat (although I feel fat, which is not the same thing), but, it was a bit of a shock. It's only 5 pounds, but, well, shit!

Let me step back (and OFF that freaking scale!)

Yesterday, while driving back from Greensboro (and listening to NPR and all the DIRE news, which should have given me a clue what would happen with our markets (again) today since it was happening all over the world yesterday), I realized I felt sort of sick, and, in a bit of a painful way.

After I finally got home, I did my best to self-treat; which means Aleve and my ever-ready stash of antibiotics. This didn't turn out to be the best idea because the antibiotics (which I learned later that I didn't even need) sort of made me feel ill to my stomach.

I tried to distract myself by reading. Unfortunately, that did not help much. On top of it, Mr. B has been working later of late because he's in the October "Busy Season". So, HE wasn't around to distract me/comfort me. Lucy, bless her heart, WANTED to comfort me, but, she just made it worse with her prancing all about, tags jingling, etc. But, thanks for trying, Goose.

Finally, he did come home. We had a late dinner and went to bed relatively early.

I spent a fairly miserable night; restless and somewhat in pain (not an awful pain but an irritating one). BTW, what turned out to be "wrong" with me was a small but painful abrasion in an inconvenient place. I'll leave it at that, but, I'm obviously gonna survive.

Anyway, I had a very long dream last night about Nigel. Or, I should say, "Nigel visited me last night for a very long time" because I like to think of my dreams of Nigel and Clyde as them coming to see me. What I really only recall from the dream (other than he was in it) was petting him a lot, holding him, and feeling comforted.

Which is not surprising, since, when he was alive, Nigel took on the role of comforter whenever I was sick, sad, etc. Not that Clyde couldn't, but, it was typically Nigel who would come find me wherever I was pouting/crying/moaning/sleeping and either climb up into my lap or get up onto the bed with me and cuddle close. In fact, I can recall times when I was married to my ex that, after a really bad day, or, if I was feeling rotten, he'd say, "What can I do to make you feel better?" to which I'd reply, "Bring me Nigel" (assuming he was not already Johnny On The Spot). This probably didn't make my ex feel great, but, well, I ended up with Nigel and divorcing him so that should tell you something.

Funny, a week or so ago, I said to Mr. B, "You know, Nigel has not come to see me for a long while", to which he replied, "Well, he must be busy right now". We had an interesting conversation about what, exactly, he might be doing up there in kitty heaven and came to the conclusion he was probably still trying to get Clyde acclimated.

So, I suppose he decided coming "down" and comforting mom was more important than whatever he was doing with Clyde.

Thanks, Nigel!

Now, if you could only magically make those 5 pounds disappear, I'd REALLY be grateful.

Mrs. B