Another New Day Awaits

If we hadn't stopped after church yesterday at Doc Chey's for lettuce wraps and pad thai noodles, I would have had time to post to my blog before work. I knew what I wanted to say, but because life moves along page by page it is now yesterday's news. Today is a new day, the start of a new week, and so far is looking pretty good. I am feeling the nearness of spring and a yippee! swells inside of me. I won't be working but have a not too busy agenda, just enough to structure my time. And maybe I will get to one of those books I bought in Charleston.

Friday with the Writers

I am back from a nice trip to Charleston. Yesterday was the main reason for the visit and this is sorta how it went.

Lori and I arrived at Fish, a local restaurant on King Street, by noon in time to get settled before lunch. We sat in the narrow dining room at one of the white cloth covered tables for four and were soon joined by a nice woman whom we learned is a writer and working on a non-romance but definitely for women novel. All forty of us attendees were served either vegetarian or braised beef moo shu with miso cucumber salad. It was new to me but light and refreshing with that distinct gingery Asian flavor. As we were tasting our last bites, Nicole Seitz was introduced and then spoke to the group. She told a little about the inspiration for her third book A Hundred Years of Happiness that was being released that very day, and then read from it. It touched me, and I was smitten with this mature, insightful, talented yet humble young woman. Then the popular author of seventeen novels Anne Rivers Siddons came to the podium and charmingly read some from her latest book Off Season. I listened and watched, and in ways besides the shape of her face and the red lipstick...what was it that reminded me of my mother? Aha! Mother read to me also in my adulthood, usually her most recent poem or dream.

After the luncheon we walked in the blustery cold about a block down King to Blue Bicycle Books, a sponsor of the event. Right inside there were stacks of fancy little sweets, brie and crackers, and bottles of champagnes in copper buckets of ice. Anne and Nicole were seated to the right already signing stacks of newly purchased books. (Photo here.) The bookstore, like the restaurant, had a narrow shop front but went deep into the back, and it was lined with books of all sorts. Not a big spender, I did buy a total of four, one an old bio of Dorothea Dix that may get even dustier before I get around to reading it. I was watching for Anne Siddons to come back to the table but got so engrossed in my conversation with Nicole that I missed her exit from the store. Lori and I bolted out and spotting her red and black jacket up from us on the busy sidewalk called "Anne!" but she was talking with her companion and didn't turn around. Lori caught up with her first, practically having to tackle her, but Mrs. Siddons graciously signed my books.


We tried walking around the city some after that but it was uncommonly chilly, and since we had accomplished what we set out to do, we headed back. It was a lot of fun.

Good Day for a Smoothie

Since the trauma and pain I experienced at the hands of the sadistic, adolescent endodontist yesterday, I have been trying to treat myself as a sweet mama would treat a sick child. For starters I let myself sleep/rest in bed til my stomach cried feed me. Then I dragged out the blender and made a delicious smoothie from plain yogurt, a small banana, frozen red berries, fresh blueberries, flax seed, and a smidgen of the comfort food called heavy cream. I took it back to bed with me and sipped while I watched Emeril. Yummy.

But I was a smoothie maker way back when, before smoothies were cool, before they were even called smoothies. Just ask my children. It all started with an old fashioned Orange Julius made with frozen concentrated OJ, ice, milk of some sort, a bit of sugar and some vanilla. They are really delicious and trick your stomach into thinking you have eaten a meal. Later I dabbled with other fruit "smoothies" as well as coffee/chocolate iced blender drinks, and most turned out pretty well. I figure the challenge is getting the consistency you like.

For today, my poor sore mouth appreciated the soothing drinks.

The Pain Scale

We are indoctrinated with it but also think that one of the silliest things that has come down the pike for nurses is the pain scale. "On a scale of one to ten, how do you rate your pain?" we ask our addicts who have been yukking it up in the day area one minute before approaching the med window with an expression of suffering. When they reply, "It's a ten," I feel like smarting off with, "You haven't been through eight hours of back labor have you?" But then I don't deal with the usual medical - or dental - patients, one of whom I was today, and I must admit, my pain reached a ten.

When I was of childbearing age and as we young women told our labor stories, a few would say that they had rather have a baby than a root canal. At the time I didn't agree but now I see where they were coming from. The endodontist today said that my scenario was one of the most painful: an infection, the fact that I can't take epinephrine, and having to drill though an existing crown. I tightly gripped the handles of the chair, said the 23rd Psalm over and over to myself, but eventually the tears started rolling down the sides of my stiffly reclined head. I was embarrassed and tried to explain. Through the gadgets attached to my teeth and the rubber stretched across my mouth I mumbled, "It hurts."

"She said it hurts," the dental assistant interpreted for me. I was impressed. But the work had to go on before the quick acting anesthetic wore off. I have had them before but this one was the root canal from hell.

Eventually I stumbled to the check out desk. "That will be $950 for today." Talk about pain! Another ten. Since the abscessed tooth was not even the one that had broken, I see more financial pain in my future.

My eyes were red and wet, the side of my face was swollen, and I was still shaky when I got to the drive through window to drop off my prescription for more Augmentin. "I had a painful dental procedure," I whimpered through little sobs. As I drove off, I tried to give myself a pull yourself together pep talk, and I think it helped.

Yes, it was a ten today in my mouth, on the right side, not over my whole body but a small part of it. Maybe now it is a seven. Not bad enough to keep me away from my blogging but bad enough to make me want to go to bed as soon as I finish.

Thanks for listening.

aargh...

It seems as though I have an abscessed tooth.
The last few times I have paid an excessive amount to be tortured in his chair, the dentist said I should get this lower molar fixed, but I have put it off. I thought I could handle it. Denial. My body has served me well, but my teeth? That's another story. So when a piece of this tooth broke off, I tried to ignore it until Friday when I started having excruciating pain on the left side of my mouth. Raym said, "It sounds like an abscess." Why didn't I think of that! But I am sure it is, and I have been trying without success to get in to an emergency dentist. Thank goodness there was some unused Augmentin in the medicine cabinet. I have had a few other tooth abscesses and took an antibiotic first, so I have had a few doses. It has helped a whole lot. Still it is painful and I hope to get to any torturer asap.