2018 April 6: We Interrupt This Cancer Epic...For a Root Canal. And other Important Things.
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Sometimes, when the sun is shining and the crocuses are pushing their bright little faces out into the world and my lungs are clear and the dogs are quiet and children satisfied and my husband smiles at me in the way only he can smile and I have a Starbucks iced soy latte in one hand and a book in the other, all feels truly right with the world. I had two of these days in a row this last week, and in honor of that achievement I went to Target and bought a new gratitude journal to keep on the art cart in the dining room so that anyone in the family could write down things for which they felt grateful at any time. Going to Target for a rogue errand, as many of you know but may not be willing to admit, is the 21st century white girl equivalent of this:
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Sometimes, when the sun is shining and the crocuses are pushing their bright little faces out into the world and my lungs are clear and the dogs are quiet and children satisfied and my husband smiles at me in the way only he can smile and I have a Starbucks iced soy latte in one hand and a book in the other, all feels truly right with the world. I had two of these days in a row this last week, and in honor of that achievement I went to Target and bought a new gratitude journal to keep on the art cart in the dining room so that anyone in the family could write down things for which they felt grateful at any time. Going to Target for a rogue errand, as many of you know but may not be willing to admit, is the 21st century white girl equivalent of this:
I mean, all was right with my world! Even cancer felt like an irksome detail that could be shoved under the rug with the help of a little concealer and an anti-nausea pill. On the third day, however... *needle scratch*
I was just finishing up my lunch when, apparently, my teeth had a quick huddle and decided that NOW was a good time to get some attention. It was a savvy move on their part, frankly, since I've mostly ignored my teeth over the last five years. I mean, I brush regularly and floss more often than I used to (this is not because I feel more grown-up but rather because I started stocking those little floss picks in the center console of my car and am delighted with myself for thinking to do this...oh, don't @ me; it's slim pickings in the self-worth department these days, okay?), but I've ignored sensitivity and vanishing gums because a girl can only go to so many medical appointments without losing her mind and also because my medical expenses are sort of insane and dental insurance is nearly useless. But I digress. The teeth. They got together and delivered a strongly worded letter to me that went something like this: "Knock-knock, motherfucker!" But since they can't write, they did it by giving me a really sharp, shrill pain in one of my molars whenever I took a breath in. Small but mighty, those little bitey folk.
I picked up my phone and called my dentist and told them I was coming over because Something Bad was happening in my mouth. They said, why, $ure! We can see you in about an hour and a half. This sounded like a really long time, so I popped a pain pill (okay, two) and drove the four blocks over to the dentist at the appointed time. I really like my dental practice. Everyone there is really nice and friendly and the assistant who appeared to take me back to the exam room said, "You really like coffee, don't you? You had one last time you came, too!" As it happened, I was holding clutching a Starbucks, which apparently has become my important accessory. That's the subject for an entirely different post - but wasn't it nice that she remembered me and my Starbucks? I haven't been there in almost six months!
Anyway, I sat down and she took some x-rays and then the dentist came in and tapped around and blew some air on my teeth. We couldn't quite decide if it was the last tooth or the next to the last tooth because someone had forced me to take two pain pills, but between the ouching and the x-rays, she said I needed a root canal and referred me to an endodontist. I didn't even know these people existed, so not only did I get a Starbucks while I was out, but I also learned something new! I called the endodontist and they said they could see me on Friday. I counted my pain pills and said, sounds great. And suddenly, it was Friday and I had an appointment at 10:15 in the morning, which was fine but I still had to make a birthday cake and mentally prepare myself for the evening's event, which was a small birthday celebration for my son, who turned nine in early February. (I may be running a little later than usual this year so far, even for me! Also, I would like to say that I hate evite because several people never responded to the invitation I sent and I'm not sure if they didn't want their children left in my care or if they just didn't get the invitation at all. Why can't they make email read receipts? I think I'm going to have to send actual invitations to things from now.) But the birthday celebration isn't the focus of this blog post - I just added it to tell you how late it was so that next time you're behind schedule, you'll feel better about yourself.
As I walked back to the interrogation exam room, I saw a couple of degrees on the wall from Mississippi. And wouldn't you know it? When the endodontist arrived, we chatted for a couple of minutes, mostly about the fact that I was a cancer patient. He asked if I was in remission, and I decided then and there that I liked him even though he was in the dental industry and about to hurt me and make money from it, and then I stopped, looked at him carefully, and said, "Where are you from? Mississippi?" HA! If he had been sitting in a chair, I'm fairly certain he would have fallen out of it. "I - How did you know that?" Oh, I said, my dad's from Kentucky (true!) and I have relatives in Alabama (true!), so I've spent a lot of time down south (not so true). I'm so pleased with my little shenanigan. It really is the little things in life. But the whole exchange really made me realize that there just aren't many Southerners in Colorado. Lots of people from the West Coast and plenty from the Great Plains and the Midwest. A few Texans here and there, but we all know that Texas is a nation unto itself...I wonder why Southerners don't move here? My best guess is that they must be laboring under the impression that Colorado is cold and snowy, and so they stay far away. Or maybe they actually like humidity and bugs the size of Little Dog*? I asked the endodontist and he said they either wanted the beach or the mountains, and the mountains won. But I'm still curious...
Curious, but focused! Focused on my dental saga. In preparation for the exam and because I didn't want him to pick the wrong tooth, I did not take any pain medication. Whelp! That was a good, yet very painful, choice. Right away, we discovered that it was tooth #15. Oh, #15, you are wily and holy hell, did it hurt when Dr. Endodontist put cold water on you and then tapped you "just to be sure" he had the right culprit. Like, WOW. For those of you not in the know when it comes to tooth numbering, this is the last molar on the upper left side. The very last one. And this, it turned out, was a bit of a problem. For though my my disapproving mom voice is mighty (as the boys visiting this evening discovered to their chagrin) and my debating skills strong, I have a comically small mouth. Kid toothbrush sized small. This is a problem when the dental professional needs to access the teeth in the back of the (mini?) bus, as Dr. Y'all discovered. He did not complain, or even make a big deal out of it. He just had the assistant jam that wedge thing in there so that I couldn't bite him. Which was fine. Or it was fine for about ten minutes, and then I had to say "help!" in dental patient-ese. Because between the wedge, which was a little large, the drilling, lots of pressure and suctioning due to the discovery that I had a rock in my tooth (if you're a dentist or endodontist, PLEASE explain this to me because the google, it does nothing but Dr. Y'all said that tiny rocks can form inside a tooth when the nerve is inflamed, the tooth has had a lot of dental work, or there's a crack in it - he didn't offer to let me see the rock, though, once he extracted it and I didn't know enough dental patient-ese to ask properly), the fact that I had to tip my head really far back which led to arching my upper back in this weird way, and my overall anxiety about dental work coupled with the fact that I failed to take a xanax before I arrived (with the good week I was having and all, I hadn't taken any all week!)...the hinge point of my jaw became really, really sore. Dr. Y'all was all, well, we'll have to do this over multiple visits then, because I can't do a root canal in fifteen minutes! I didn't want him to stop, for Heaven's sake, though, because the last thing I wanted to do besides visit the endodontist was to visit the endodontist TWICE, so I was all, noooooo! Don't stop! And then a little, teeny miracle happened and another assistant came in to tell Dr. Y'all about a problem patient in another room. Not only did this feed my deep love of hearing gossip about people I don't know, but it also gave my mouth at least a 5 to 10 minute break from the pressure and drilling and so on!! Alleluia, endodontist style! (The other patient, by the way because I know you want to know (you're probably interested in the vast richness that is humanity and I get it! I really do; otherwise, why would I be writing a blog in the first place, and why would you be reading it?!), was threatening to find another endodontist today if Dr. Y'all didn't treat him right away. When the assistant repeated that the patient said, s/he was going to find a new endodontist today to treat him/her, Dr. Y'all raised an eyebrow and said, "No, s/he won't. At least, not today." And this is when the little flame of like that had been ignited in my heart for Dr. Y'all back when he thought I could be in remission despite my hair falling out in chunks and my terrible skin problems blossomed into a full-on brushfire of love that will never be extinguished.
Even better than his bringing on of the snark, he resumed treating my tooth, which, as far as I could tell, consisted of sticking a bunch of pins into it and then reading off the numbers on them to his assistant, who not only dutifully recorded them but remembered them well enough to rattle the last five off (along with Dr. Y'all's comments about said numbers) without even glancing at the computer. And guess what? THEY FINISHED IT! I did it! I made it through the whole root canal, and then they put a special cap on it made out of rubber that they melted onto my tooth and actual, real smoke came out of my face and everything. Then they sent me on my way with instructions not to delay in getting the crown put on by my dentist, which I will not delay because I had to do that once in college thanks to no money and the person who was supposed to pay my dental insurance not paying my dental insurance and that damn tooth became abscessed and I found out WHEN I GOT ON A PLANE AND THEY PRESSURIZED THE CABIN. Omg, I have never seen a flight attendant move so fast. She brought me a handle of Jack Daniels because it was the first thing she grabbed and gave me two shots of it on the house and then poured me a healthy Jack and (Diet) Coke before we even took off. Bless you, flight attendant and also my ex, Ben, who was the one who thought of this solution in the first place. Worked like a charm! So I will not ever let my tooth become abscessed again. I don't even drink Diet Coke anymore.
So, what can we gather from this story? Well, we can definitively say that teeth need attending to right away when they make themselves heard. We can also say that good days can become troublesome days in the blink of an eye, but also that a little trouble is just that - a little trouble. Here it is, late Friday night and my tooth is (temporarily) fixed, I learned a whole bunch of new stuff about teeth and the people who care for them, the kids are all sound asleep (even the sleepwalker), and attitude really does make a difference in the quality of your life (although I am already firmly on the record saying that it doesn't necessarily make a difference in the quantity of days you have in said life. And that's okay), and even though America is a bit of a mess right now, I sure am glad that our family is fortunate enough to live where we live and have the home and comforts that we have. Not only did I get that tooth attended to lickety-split, but I'm sitting in front of a cozy fake fireplace and am nice and warm under a fuzzy blankey that my mother-in-law thoughtfully sent to me when I was feeling blue. I have so much to be grateful for. I'm really damn glad that I bought the gratitude journal earlier this week and even gladder that it will be a family project. Also, even people with cancer have lives beyond their cancer. And that sounds so obvious to me, but maybe it's not to you, if you don't have cancer or aren't closely associated with someone who does. Or maybe even if you do or you are. Cancer is not the sum total of your life, and the more often we all remember that, the better. I want to hear other people's problems (so many people say or intimate that they don't tell me about their worries or problems because my own problems "are so much worse" - but not only does that make me feel less myself than almost anything else, because if I can't be a sounding board or whatever to the people I love the most, how close can we be?, but also it leaves me without that rich tapestry of humanity, also known as gossip! - and I want to forget about my own problems. I want cancer to be as unimportant as possible, believe it or not. I know that sounds antithetical to this whole project, since it's a blog about my life with cancer, but it's really not. Because the blog is about my life with cancer. And the book I'm writing? (Yep, snuck that in there, I really am writing a book) It's about parenting and loving people while I also deal with cancer. If I were all cancer, all the time, fuck. Cancer would be in charge in my life. And it has already taken away too much of my life as it is.
So, the next time you see me or the person you love who has cancer or the next time you look in the mirror if you have cancer, take a second. Tell me or your love or yourself about your day. Share it. Let me, them, yourself - into your life. Everyone will be richer for it.
And before I forget! SW Basics? The amazing Original Cream people, the ones who make the all organic, totally basic and absolutely amazing emollient that is just shea butter and coconut oil and olive oil? They have an exfoliator now! It's that stuff I just listed, plus sugar, and it works MUCH better than the lip exfoliator that I mentioned a few weeks back, especially on my eyelids and forehead, where I have most of my flakiness! You gotta try it. Just get a tiny dab, run a bit of water over it, rub, and apply. Then wash it off or use you Makeup Eraser, if you have one. It's terrific, I promise. When I was at Target singing and spinning around, I ALSO noticed that they have started selling individual skincare ingredients from SW Basics that you can mix into the cream, the exfoliator, or into stuff you have at home! Things like clay powder, to make a mask. I can't remember the other stuff but check it out! If you get all mixologist on yo'self, let me know!
Also, I promised to tell you about my love for Drew Barrymore and why I especially loved the movie I was watching last week. And then I forgot, but one of my friends texted me to ask what movie it was, and so I remembered again. Of course, now I can't remember if it was Elizabeth or Deirdre or someone else entirely who jogged my memory, so thanks...You! You're the best! *toothy grin* The movie I was watching was "50 First Dates." And I've always loved that movie, because I've loved Drew Barrymore since I saw her in ET. We are about the same age and she kicks serious ass and has been a powerful woman in Hollywood since long before the #MeToo era (hello, Flower Films!), and I admire the hell out of that. Also, I bet you anything that her mouth is a little on the small side, too. But the reason I wanted to mention "50 First Dates" is that although I've loved it since it first came out in 2004, it means so much more to me now. It's become one of my anchors, a heart buoy in the middle of a vast and often scary sea. And it's not because it takes place near (and, spoiler alert, IN) the ocean. No. It's because Drew's character, Lucy, discovers each and every day that she is living with a terrible condition. But thanks to the deep and abiding love of her boyfriend/husband, Henry, along with the devotion and patience of her family and her own resilience and ability to laugh, she's still the Lucy that she's always been. Despite this terrible affliction, she still shines, she still finds wonder, still chooses to hope. She still expects wonderful things to happen. And that's the real trick of it all. It's not that all of the support she has or her own inner strength or some kind of magical elixir makes amazing things happen. It's not that her own devotion (or anyone else's) creates miracles. No. It's that she still allows herself to notice and enjoy wonderful things. She's still open to what the world has to offer. Not everyday, of course. But most of the time. What else can we ask of ourselves, really? What else is there to life?
I hope you all give yourselves the gift of wonder this weekend. And I hope you write it down. (That way, you can hold onto it when those days when you just can't mentally get out of bed occur.)
Even better than his bringing on of the snark, he resumed treating my tooth, which, as far as I could tell, consisted of sticking a bunch of pins into it and then reading off the numbers on them to his assistant, who not only dutifully recorded them but remembered them well enough to rattle the last five off (along with Dr. Y'all's comments about said numbers) without even glancing at the computer. And guess what? THEY FINISHED IT! I did it! I made it through the whole root canal, and then they put a special cap on it made out of rubber that they melted onto my tooth and actual, real smoke came out of my face and everything. Then they sent me on my way with instructions not to delay in getting the crown put on by my dentist, which I will not delay because I had to do that once in college thanks to no money and the person who was supposed to pay my dental insurance not paying my dental insurance and that damn tooth became abscessed and I found out WHEN I GOT ON A PLANE AND THEY PRESSURIZED THE CABIN. Omg, I have never seen a flight attendant move so fast. She brought me a handle of Jack Daniels because it was the first thing she grabbed and gave me two shots of it on the house and then poured me a healthy Jack and (Diet) Coke before we even took off. Bless you, flight attendant and also my ex, Ben, who was the one who thought of this solution in the first place. Worked like a charm! So I will not ever let my tooth become abscessed again. I don't even drink Diet Coke anymore.
So, what can we gather from this story? Well, we can definitively say that teeth need attending to right away when they make themselves heard. We can also say that good days can become troublesome days in the blink of an eye, but also that a little trouble is just that - a little trouble. Here it is, late Friday night and my tooth is (temporarily) fixed, I learned a whole bunch of new stuff about teeth and the people who care for them, the kids are all sound asleep (even the sleepwalker), and attitude really does make a difference in the quality of your life (although I am already firmly on the record saying that it doesn't necessarily make a difference in the quantity of days you have in said life. And that's okay), and even though America is a bit of a mess right now, I sure am glad that our family is fortunate enough to live where we live and have the home and comforts that we have. Not only did I get that tooth attended to lickety-split, but I'm sitting in front of a cozy fake fireplace and am nice and warm under a fuzzy blankey that my mother-in-law thoughtfully sent to me when I was feeling blue. I have so much to be grateful for. I'm really damn glad that I bought the gratitude journal earlier this week and even gladder that it will be a family project. Also, even people with cancer have lives beyond their cancer. And that sounds so obvious to me, but maybe it's not to you, if you don't have cancer or aren't closely associated with someone who does. Or maybe even if you do or you are. Cancer is not the sum total of your life, and the more often we all remember that, the better. I want to hear other people's problems (so many people say or intimate that they don't tell me about their worries or problems because my own problems "are so much worse" - but not only does that make me feel less myself than almost anything else, because if I can't be a sounding board or whatever to the people I love the most, how close can we be?, but also it leaves me without that rich tapestry of humanity, also known as gossip! - and I want to forget about my own problems. I want cancer to be as unimportant as possible, believe it or not. I know that sounds antithetical to this whole project, since it's a blog about my life with cancer, but it's really not. Because the blog is about my life with cancer. And the book I'm writing? (Yep, snuck that in there, I really am writing a book) It's about parenting and loving people while I also deal with cancer. If I were all cancer, all the time, fuck. Cancer would be in charge in my life. And it has already taken away too much of my life as it is.
So, the next time you see me or the person you love who has cancer or the next time you look in the mirror if you have cancer, take a second. Tell me or your love or yourself about your day. Share it. Let me, them, yourself - into your life. Everyone will be richer for it.
And before I forget! SW Basics? The amazing Original Cream people, the ones who make the all organic, totally basic and absolutely amazing emollient that is just shea butter and coconut oil and olive oil? They have an exfoliator now! It's that stuff I just listed, plus sugar, and it works MUCH better than the lip exfoliator that I mentioned a few weeks back, especially on my eyelids and forehead, where I have most of my flakiness! You gotta try it. Just get a tiny dab, run a bit of water over it, rub, and apply. Then wash it off or use you Makeup Eraser, if you have one. It's terrific, I promise. When I was at Target singing and spinning around, I ALSO noticed that they have started selling individual skincare ingredients from SW Basics that you can mix into the cream, the exfoliator, or into stuff you have at home! Things like clay powder, to make a mask. I can't remember the other stuff but check it out! If you get all mixologist on yo'self, let me know!
Also, I promised to tell you about my love for Drew Barrymore and why I especially loved the movie I was watching last week. And then I forgot, but one of my friends texted me to ask what movie it was, and so I remembered again. Of course, now I can't remember if it was Elizabeth or Deirdre or someone else entirely who jogged my memory, so thanks...You! You're the best! *toothy grin* The movie I was watching was "50 First Dates." And I've always loved that movie, because I've loved Drew Barrymore since I saw her in ET. We are about the same age and she kicks serious ass and has been a powerful woman in Hollywood since long before the #MeToo era (hello, Flower Films!), and I admire the hell out of that. Also, I bet you anything that her mouth is a little on the small side, too. But the reason I wanted to mention "50 First Dates" is that although I've loved it since it first came out in 2004, it means so much more to me now. It's become one of my anchors, a heart buoy in the middle of a vast and often scary sea. And it's not because it takes place near (and, spoiler alert, IN) the ocean. No. It's because Drew's character, Lucy, discovers each and every day that she is living with a terrible condition. But thanks to the deep and abiding love of her boyfriend/husband, Henry, along with the devotion and patience of her family and her own resilience and ability to laugh, she's still the Lucy that she's always been. Despite this terrible affliction, she still shines, she still finds wonder, still chooses to hope. She still expects wonderful things to happen. And that's the real trick of it all. It's not that all of the support she has or her own inner strength or some kind of magical elixir makes amazing things happen. It's not that her own devotion (or anyone else's) creates miracles. No. It's that she still allows herself to notice and enjoy wonderful things. She's still open to what the world has to offer. Not everyday, of course. But most of the time. What else can we ask of ourselves, really? What else is there to life?
I hope you all give yourselves the gift of wonder this weekend. And I hope you write it down. (That way, you can hold onto it when those days when you just can't mentally get out of bed occur.)
* This is Little Dog. He weighs nine pounds and believes he is in charge of the joint, much to the dismay of our very sweet Lab/Great Dane mix. I love him, but I really wish he would stop randomly barking at "threats" and also launching himself off of my lap whenever someone comes to the door, because he digs his talons into my leg when he does this and it never ceases to surprise and pain me. Also, he cannot handle it when people love on our other dog. He bites him on the ear, the neck, whatever he can get. It's just terrible. Terrible! I might change his name to L'enfant terrible, just to express my dismay.
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