I took this picture as a way of exploring contrast. There’s the sun rising over Wappoo Creek not far from where Eliza Lucas Pinckney lived from the time she was 15 until she got married at 22. A southern marsh. Warm light. And then there’s a pair of loppers. Pulled out of the garage so that I could take a couple of branches off a big yew out back and have a place to stand that is semi-protected while out with the dog in the backyard. If it’s snowing hard. Or raining.
But now that I have a dentist appt. this afternoon, the loppers have taken on a ghoulish aspect and remind me of my father.
How? you wonder.
My father was a pretty funny guy. Whatever else he was he was still that — funny. A mad punster, quick-witted, he made inventive visual jokes as well. When I was about eight, I had a very loose tooth which we agreed needed to be pulled. He made a series of trips to the garage while I waited nervously in the kitchen. The first time he returned with a huge garden tool — perhaps a pair of loppers like the ones above. With some uttered apology, very serious sounding, he went back out to the garage, returning with a smaller but still horrifying tool — perhaps hand-held hedge trimmers? By then I was on to him, but nevertheless, when he approached my mouth a few return trips later with a small pair of pliers, while still terrified, I was flooded with the idea that the procedure definitely could be worse.
I have to go in to the periodontist shortly and have an implant removed. It failed twice. We are talking about probably a dozen appointments over a period of two and half years and thousands of dollars (even with dental insurance). That’s bad enough, but for each visit, I have had to manage my terror. Some things just don’t get better with time.
On top of that, at the very outset I wanted them to just pull the rotten tooth out and leave it be, but apparently that wasn’t a good idea then but is a perfectly acceptable idea now. I don’t blame anybody, but I sure wish I hadn’t gone through this.
The good news? It was scheduled about an hour ago, so I’ll only have the afternoon to fill with dread. The bad news? I’m out of anxiety meds.
But just think! By the time the dinner dishes are loaded into the dishwasher, this nasty business will be over.
I am wondering if my second Saturn return is starting to show itself.
My only advice – laughing gas – it works, it is lovely, and it will make you forget everything dreadful about it. Good luck cousin….
Thanks ginny. I will ask for the tank. Thanks for reminding me. I forgot he offered it.
Oh, and when the clap the mask on, toke like you’re getting set to explore the Titanic.You’ll be g o n e.
My dad tied a string around my loose tooth and the other end to a work boot and when I wasn’t looking, threw the boot into the next room. We never did find the tooth.
Oh your tooth story makes me feel so much better! And yes the inhalations did the trick. Gave me the nerve to well, keep my mouth open, but also to keep asking, hows it going, and what’re you doing.
Makes me think we all need to say “no” more often to complex medical/dental interventions … and trust ourselves more to know what’s best.
You are so right. It can be hard to know in the moment though.
Hi Dee, I was a day ahead of you in the dentist’s chair. the dear lady decided to replace the first two crowns she ever did for me. . .not because I was having trouble from them, but because she doubted their integrity and it “would make her feel better” to replace them free of charge. It was a leisurely process, actually, and they are becoming sensitive to my need to rest and regroup at intervals. I am working on my own diminishing sense of dread in the hours leading up to that. no drugs, me.
I have a signal that means “I need to swallow.” That helps.
thanks dee, I’ll “channel” you if I may? nothing psychic, I promise.
You have made me feel like the luckiest girl in the world, just for having no cavities 🙂
There are people like you in rhe world!