“[This is] my go-to breakfast whenever I have some ground pork or goat meat in the fridge.”

(Oh sure. I keep my goat meat right next to my narwhal patties and my unicorn links.)

Or this:

“If you have ground venison, wild boar, or other game meat, try substituting it for the pork.”

(Right. I’ll make sure to bring some back the next time we visit our summer cottage in Sherwood Forest.)

Lately I’ve been having a really hard time with the mood cycling that comes with my bi-polar disorder. The constant roller coaster of shifting emotions is exhausting, not to mention all the stories and dramatics my mind goes into as a result of all my internal spinning.

It takes  constant, superhuman strength to stand within myself and remember that these are just thoughts and emotions, that just because they’re here doesn’t mean they’re true,  to remember that I’ve made it through this before and I can do it again, to trust that yes, this is here, and it sucks, and I’m going to be OK, all the while being bashed and buffeted and bruised and banged up and beaten by constant, unrelenting waves of pain.

It helps to get outside, even for a few minutes, so I can focus on something other than myself and my mind. And even though it’s kind of gloomy here today, I was surprised by unexpected beauty. May its peace and lovely grace continue to ripple through my soul today.

 

 

So I was at the dentist yesterday for a checkup and, not surprisingly, since it had been almost a year and a half since my last visit, the dentist informed me that I had some cavities.

He’d confirmed two of the suspect spots and was examining a third when he suddenly asked, “Do you smoke?”

“No,” I said, all my 40 years of Being A Good Girl rising up in horror that he might think such a thing of me.

“Oh, well this is just a really weird place to get a cavity.”

“I like to be unique,” I quipped.

“Yeah…I was really just hoping you smoked.”

And now I am very afraid.

So I can’t remember what I’ve told you guys lately, on account of my body apparently felt that during the past 3 months of comprehensive and invasive medical procedures my teeth were being left out of things, and decided to take immediate action to remedy the situation.

Which meant that one day I bit down and Felt Something, and not in a good way. But I decided to just kind of take a “wait and see”, “I’m sure it’ll go away on its own” kind of approach, because that’s worked out so well for me in the past. And, you know, because when even the pain meds you’re on for your fibro aren’t helping your tooth pain, that’s definitely the time to take more of a passive approach to your dental health.

Luckily for me my husband had recently made us our 6-month dental check-up appointments, so it was only a couple (or maybe 6) weeks until the dentist got a look at it. At which point he told me that I had a fracture, and made me bite down on the bitey stick until it hurt really, REALLY badly, and then told me I needed to go see an endodontist. Preferably today. Or, ideally, yesterday, if I could possibly work that out.

So we showed up at the endodontist bright and early the next morning where I got to repeat the bitey stick exercise, AND have my lower teeth beaten on tapped AND have him touch my tooth with a swab, the tip of which was slathered with an icy, sub-zero cold that could only have come from The Blackest Reaches Of Hell, until it was REALLY F*ING HURTING. At which point he announced that I needed a root canal right that second.

I’ve had a root canal before and I was pretty sure that’s what was gonna happen, so while it was not the worst thing I’d even had to go through, it certainly wasn’t pleasant. So I had a few yucky days, and then there was just sweet, blessed relief for about a week and a half.

And then, 2 or 3 days before I was supposed to go back to the dentist to get a crown, I bit down and felt the bad thing again, and some more pain just WHOOSHED its way right back in. Which meant that after a lot of hemming and hawing, on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving we all decided that the tooth needed to come out.  Unfortunately the tooth never received the memo on this decision, and therefore was extremely committed to remaining attached to my head. E-X-T-R-E-M-E-L-Y committed.

But fast forward to today, a week later, and the day when my sutures were coming out. To celebrate, I went to the chiropractor to get adjusted, because after all that dental work my jaw was so out of joint that it could barely open. So I was explaining all of this to the doctor, and as he was adjusting me he asked if I was going to get a dental implant. To which I replied, “Not if I can help it.” Which then impelled him to explain why I really needed to get an implant, and how he has this great oral surgeon, and how the surgeon took really good care of him when he had his tooth extracted-same tooth as me, actually-and showed me how great it looks, and then, as part of his sales pitch (?) started describing the implant process to me.

He said, “So you know, when they get the tooth out, and there’s that hole there? Well he just reached over, and took a small piece of cow bone, and put it down in that hole, and…” and to tell you the truth, I just stopped listening after that, because, um, nooooooope. Plus, the conversation had started to violate my rule of listening to doctors giving me advice on medical problems that they do not, personally, treat in their own particular medical practice.

But then I was finally at the dentist, and I finally had my stitches out, and I was finally free to go, and as part of my celebration I informed him that I was immediately going to the Chick-Fil-A down the street, now that I was no longer under the ban on eating french fries and carbonated drinks (oh, hello, blessed french fries; once again I am cradled in your sweet embrace).

“Because it’s been a loooooong week,” I said.

“Oh, well that was only for the first day or two,” he replied.

“Well why didn’t anyone tell me that?! ” I asked.

“Well for the first few days I’m worried about things getting back there and poking that spot,” he explained seriously, “but then, then you…” and here he started to laugh, as he realized what he was getting ready to say, “then you can start…weaning yourself back onto junk food.”