My Thoughts as I Knew Them, a diary of Sandra Lynn

Page last updated on 2/1/12

The Archives ... formerly known as "All the Crap I've Written in the Diary Prior to Today, but it was Taking Too Damned Long to Load in a Browser Window." Blogging at it's Finest. If it doesn't say "Wet Sands" it isn't a Blog!

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2012 Babblings so far...

January

January 2, 2012 - Happy 2012! May this year be your best. (A heart felt wish from me to you, but in reality we all know there will be sad times, hard times, and odd times - but there will be good times, and you have to remember those good times to get through all the rest so really I should be wishing you lots of Omega 3 fatty acids to help your memory...)

January 3, 2012 - I wanted to start the New Year off with good advice for my kids. ("Good Advice for Kids" means they won't read it or understand it until they are my age, then - well...it's too darned late anyway, now isn't it?) I pondered this 'good advice' for some time. There are only a few things I would like to stress to anyone reading this...

1) Treat you internal organs like the internal royalty that they are. Give them due respect. The gravitational force of the Earth will drag internal organs down and stretch them out over time no matter if you are skinny and fit or fat and have high blood pressure. Internal organs need to be considered NOW instead of when you start losing all function to them.

A bladder is a good example.

Go pee every two hours or so as you get older, even if you think you don't need to go. When you are young you forget to pee. You go all day without relieving your bladder. I can tell you RIGHT NOW that your bladder will go on strike and fail you if you continue to treat it like it doesn't exist until the only hope is a last minute run to the nearest toilet. I remember how badly I treated mine, and I remember the year it decided to just quit working 'normally' - 1998. It was while I was at the bar with a bunch of work mates and we were competing in a sing along to "My Ding a Ling" - there was never a group I was part of that EVER lost a shouting contest and it wasn't going to be that night either! I sang with gusto. My bladder decided that night to go on strike - right there, in the bar - in my seat.

Bladders will only take so much abuse before they run off to join a cult and totally ignore you or any command your brain may send their way. Oh sure, out of old time sake they may wake you up in time in the middle of the night by making you dream of waterfalls and rain storms, but all in all, once your bladder leaves, it's gone and you are on you own in that department. So take care of your bladder.

2) If your cat wakes you up at three a.m., don't throw it off the bed. Just pet it for a second and then prop your hand up on a pillow. While you drift back to sleep the cat will 'self pet' on your propped up hand. Problem solved.

3) If your dog wakes you up at three a.m. barking its full head off, it means one of three things:
a-There is an intruder in the house
b-There is a fire
c-The poor thing has to poop
When dogs wake you up at three a.m., you might as well just get up and check it out without getting grumpy or yelling at the dog otherwise you will be cleaning up a pile of dog crap in the morning or someone will be identifying your remains by your dental records...

Not very good advice, but that all I came up with in my head last night while I propped my hand up so the cat could 'self pet' - You can spew forth advice all you want in this world. You can show concern and such - but the person on the receiving end will never heed said advice and continue on their own path. We did the same thing when people gave us advice way back when. Now WE give advice because we feel the need to help people and share our ideas with others because it helps us feel better and totally relieves us of any responsibility if the person we are giving advice to goes out and does it anyway - plus we want other people to avoid things that may hurt them. We mean well, but we know - deep inside - no one is listening anyway, just like my bladder no longer listens to my brain.

It currently feels like 8 degrees outside. I can attest to this fact. It is bitter cold standing outside with the doggies. Burr. Finally, winter has arrived in full force. It is not booger freezing cold yet, but I assume that will come later this month. I am sure you will hear about it.

I finished my first book out of the 20 or so my oldest son got me for Christmas. I decided to write the date on the inside cover that I finish them. By the time I went to bed last night all lights in the house had several dimensions in my eye sight range, which was actually quite pretty. I will have to space the reading out a bit so I don't go blind. I love reading, however. I cannot stop doing it. I love how my brain can make the story come 'alive' in my head and it's better than a motion picture any day. I wish my wee one would have inherited this trait from his Mom. Apparently the "Reading is FUNdamental" campaign went totally past his wee brain...

January 6, 2012 - I must confess my soul to the world. It will be therapeutic to tell this story and that was the whole point of this blog to begin with - therapy for Sandy.

Tuesday night I did not read my emails online. I just made dinner and lounged around afterward until time for bed. When I got up yesterday morning, I started working on line like always and while jobs were running at work I checked my personal mail. There was a letter from my Aunt Trudy and in that letter it said, "...and Sandy's youngest turns 19 tomorrow!" I stared at those words. I panicked. I read them again, then turned to my husband and said (loudly) "OH MY GOD, I FORGOT IT IS THE WEE ONE'S BIRTHDAY TODAY!!"

I suppose I did not have to tell anyone that I, former "Mother of the Year in Some Other Parallel Universe" forgot one of her own kid's date of birth, but I will. I try to use myself as an example of odd things that happens to normal humans so other normal humans feel, well - more normal. I want people to say, "If it happened to Sandy, then I'm not so bad..."

I remember well the day he was born and the sequence of events that led to him flying out of my lower regions. It is not as if I never see the boy, either, but if Aunt Trudy had not put that in her email, I wonder just how long it would have taken me to realize that the 5th of January held some significance?!? Sigh. I could make up excuses I suppose. (I forgot because it was so close to Christmas that when Christmas was over, I figured everything was over.) (I blocked him out of my mind because he's on academic probation at college and he doesn't have a job yet and I am irritated with the wee one.) I love all my babies, trust me. If someone threatened one of my babies, I would attack like a tigress and take no prisoners and leave no evidence. This time, however, I just had a mental fart and dropped the ball.

I did get on line right away and posted 'Happy Birthday' to his Facebook account and then texted him that we would take him out to dinner or he could eat dinner here if he wanted. Then I left work a half hour early last night to run to the store and get stuff for dinner and I snagged a pre-made chocolate cake with peanut butter frosting as well from the bakery. I had not planned on buying him any big gifts anyway since I had just bought him a jacket, but I did grab some shower soap and stinky stuff for men to put in a wee bag for him.

He came over with his girlfriend and they ate dinner with us. After the meal we all had a piece of cake. After that, when the kids were ready to leave, I put the cover back on the cake and took it out to him in the living room and told him, "You had better take this home with you..."

That's when I threw the rest of the cake on his legs.

I was in the process of handing it to him when the lid popped off and the cake jumped out to save its own life and all of it ended up on the floor and most of the frosting was on his jeans. I started laughing hysterically. My husband told the wee one, "Happy Fricken Birthday! Take That!!" and we were all laughing quite hard.

I took the dogs outside so they wouldn't eat the chocolate cake while my son was cleaning up the mess. I laughed and laughed and I couldn't stop laughing. My husband said that when I went outside my son looked at him and said, "Is it Mom's 'time'? It must be Mom's 'time'!" (It is a fact known well to all of my family members that when it is my 'time o'the month' the gravity around me becomes very powerful and apparently I can magnetize ANYTHING so things will fly out of my hands and towards the center of the Earth with force and purpose. I don't think it's 'my time' as the wee one said, I just think the lid was not on very good on that cake container. Others will disagree...)

Sigh. So that is my confession. I forgot the wee one's birthday then threw cake on him to boot.

It feels good to confess, and if you see me coming at you today with any food products in my hands - RUN!

January 9, 2012 - I forgot to mention in the above rambling that when I yelled at my husband that I had forgotten the wee one's Birthday, he said to me, "It's the ninth already?" My husband, too, did not have a clue on the exact date of birth of the youngest. We can laugh about it now, of course. The wee one and my oldest came over for Birthday homemade pizza and hot fudge cake yesterday. The boys left very full and happy, I hope.

I went to the doctor for my blood work review on Thursday morning. I had yearly blood done prior to Christmas and never got in to see my doctor to review it, so since I was needing maintenance drugs refilled anyway, I went in. The doctor came in and said my 'report card was excellent..." and I squealed with joy "...except for..." (You always have to give them a chance to finish talking before you start squealing, really.) My ALP level was at 161. (Alkaline phosphatase is what that stands for, apparently. Looked it up.) It is supposed to be below 116.

The doctor was confounded by this since every other check (lipids, the other four or so liver checks, etc) were textbook good. The only in the 'red' was that ALP count. He showed me my levels from prior to my gall bladder surgery and the new set, side by side, and the ALP was down from 199 to 161, so he was happy it was going 'down' but he wasn't sure what had it "up" - he said that if the liver is acting up, ALL the tested levels for liver issues would be askew. He said we would 'watch' it and check it again in the future. I will have to research the cause for this on line and figure out what I can add to or take away from my diet to help clear the plug in my liver that is causing this issue. (I am going on the theory that something is still plugged up a bit after the gall bladder came out - maybe the liver is having withdraw/loneliness issues since the gall bladder left and is feeling depressed.)

Saturday after we got up my husband showed me a flyer from the newspaper and said, "You really need a new desk, you know (pointing at the flyer for desks on sale at a local store) and I'm in the mood to build something..." So, we went out to look at the desk he wanted me to get. (My old computer desk was sagging in the middle and all the fake wood grain was rubbed off in the high traffic areas. My husband wanted me to get a corner style computer desk, but our house is the size of a cracker box that smoked as a child and I wasn't sure about getting something THAT big...) Once we got to the place and while walking up the aisle to see the corner desk, another desk yelled at me. "You want me, Lady - not some stupid corner giant that won't fit in your house, anyway. Come on lady, LOOK at me! I'm perfect!" That desk was perfect, I must say. And cheap, I must say. We headed over and looked at the corner style desk on sale and I immediately walked away from it. "Won't work," I said to my husband, "Too big..." I went right back to the desk that had talked to me and caught the eye of the nearest sales guy. We were in and out of that store in five minutes, loaded with my new talking desk.

We got home about 6 p.m. and started the building process. My husband wanted a project? He got one. From 6 until midnight we were putting together the new desk. Hahahaha. We are never up that late. I have a feeling next time he feels like building something we'll just get him a snap together model of a truck or boat or the like. The other desk met it's maker in the burn pile and the new desk is happy to be in my little house in a little corner being a desk.

When I put together all my computer stuff again, and turned on my computer, all I got was BEEP BEEP BEEP over and over. "Ugh!" I stated in a distraught voice. (This happened before when the computer was new but that turned out to be 'real' issues that Dell had to call in a roving computer fixer upper for. I had beeping issues back then...) I dug out the manual to find out what the beeps meant. Beeps mean something to the trained computer person. Three beeps in a row meant it had a board or chip set error. (OK, this meant nothing to me, in reality, but the book said it was a board or chip set error and that did remind me of first time it happened and the I call I made to the support desk - and I remembered he had me take out and re-seat each of the RAM cards.) So I did that, and sure enough - when I opened her up there were two RAM cards loose.

This happened, my husband said in hindsight, when I took stuff out to the burn pile from the old desk and the dogs flew into the middle of our bed to watch me out the window. The problem there was I had put all the computer/desk stuff on the bed in my infinite wisdom during the desk change over, thinking to myself that the dogs HAD to be smart enough NOT to jump on a bed full of computer equipment. They were NOT smart enough. They must have landed dead on my computer tower and knocked a few things loose. Once the cards were reseated she came up just fine and all was well on my desk and with my computer. (P.S. - At this time I would like to stress the importance of backing up the key data you want to keep if in fact your dog lands on your computer and it's not an easy fix like mine was. Back ups are a good thing, remember this. So is apartment insurance if you happen to rent an apartment, but now I'm digressing...)

This morning I noticed the garbage truck on the other street. "He's early today!" I said to my husband. After the truck went by, my husband stepped out to get the Herby Curby container. There was no container. "Um, the garbage thingy is gone..." he said. I looked, and yes, it was M.I.A. My husband called after getting to work and stated that it looked like a terrible battle had taken place with garbage cans flipped and such all over the place. "Must be a new guy - gettin' used to the buttons and all.."

I emailed the garbage company from their website and told them my nice newer blue garbage can was no doubt heading for an early death in some landfill and maybe the guy was new and maybe he got his buttons confused, but I would really like a garbage can back, please...

January 10, 2012 - When I got to work yesterday morning, I called the garbage company to relate my tale of the missing Herby Curby container (in case they did not read their email on line). I was kind of giggling the whole time as I found the whole garbage-can-missing-in-action issue humorous. I told the lady I was sorry I was laughing, but it just tickled my funny bone for some reason. She said this happens all the time, especially with the smaller garbage cans. "Um, so you lose a lot of them that way!? Doesn't someone get in there and fish 'em out!? That was a perfectly good garbage can!!" She didn't react to my rambling except to say that we'd have a new on in five days. "It took 12 seconds to send my can to an early grave, why does it take five days to get a new one!?" I asked. Obviously she had not had her coffee yet and didn't find any of my attempts at humor the least bit funny. She told me, "If you do not have your new can by garbage day next week, put your garbage out anyway since you pay for the pick up service and garbage removal, not the container - the driver still has to pick it up." I live in the 'country' kind of - and putting bags of garbage by the road without a can/container is like offering a free food buffet to local homeless wildlife for miles around. Sigh. I don't want to use one of my other containers we recycle in because I've seen what they do to innocent containers...

I think tonight I will research Droopy Dog eyes. My circles under my eyes get worse and worse with every year that passes. (Apparently the type of material that makes up the space under my eyes senior

is the same as what makes up my bladder, since both are drooping so much and my eyes leak just like my bladder, too...makes one wonder...) There are days I feel 'pretty' in the morning but when I get to work I am met with comments such as "Are you OK?" or "You look so tired!" Ugh. I saw on Dr. Oz once that you can use whole milk and dab that around the eyes or a piece of potato (raw) works, too, as opposed to just using a cucumber slice, let's say. So, if I turn my face into au gratin potatoes, I could maybe help out my droopy, baggy eyes? It is worth a try, and if it doesn't work, my cat will be happy with me at least. They offer stuff on TV to cure this issue... they offer laser treatments to cure this issue...But really, can you fix the issue?

I have always believed that only you can prevent forest fires and only you can prevent issues with your body, or at least research and try to fix issues you are not happy with when it comes to your own body. There comes a time, however, that no matter what you think or do, stuff is going to droop and fall off or break. Aging sucks, basically, but I've come to terms with that. I have accepted my facial hair issue. I have accepted the veins starting to show on my legs. However, if I could change one thing I would change my droopy dog eyes. (Please see picture to your right - I had droopy dog eyes when I was 18 years old, so I might as well just quit whining about it, aye? Or should that be "eye?")

January 11, 2012 - This morning in my home email account there were several 'Weather Warn' emails. (I signed up for those type of things when the kids were in High School like a good Mom would do...) I have been getting 'Weather Warn' emails now for two days about possible snow on Thursday and Friday. I know that with the tools of mass communication and all that there is no excuse NOT to warn people about things, but I also know of the 'cry wolf' theory that if you bombard people with too much information - well, they just don't listen. (The only way to cure this issue is to have one heck of a big blizzard and then people will say, "Oh, my - I should have read my emails about the Winter Warnings!")

One of the bushes at work (a quince bush) is blooming. The last few days have been had highs near 50 degrees, and that bush, I assume (not being a bush and all - I will just have to assume its thought process) thinks it is Spring due to the higher temps and sun. Poor dude. He will get frozen and lose all those pretty buds and leaves he's shot out already!

We have a new garbage can already. I am happy about that. Makes me feel complete. They said it may take up to five days to get a new one. I think, personally (but I tend to have a vivid imagination because I have no life) that they hire some teenager to wait at landfills and after every truck dumps its stuff, that teen (in a hazmat suit, of course) has like 30 seconds to grab out as many plastic garbage cans as he can from the pile of garbage. He gets paid per garbage can... That person is like the Herby Curby fairy - saving the lives of garbage containers around the greater United States.

Jake the male dog has been waking us up every morning around 2:30 to 3:30. We do not close our curtains in the living room at night (since we live in the country and frankly, there is no reason to close them unless there was wild sex happening in said living room and we all know THAT doesn't happen anymore) so my best guess is that Jake is protecting us from the deer eating at the bird feeder out front of the rabbits eating from the bird feeder out front. I feel bad for Jake, knowing very well that the critters out front just flip the poor dog off as they know he cannot reach them. As bad as I feel for poor Jake, I am also upset by his actions because as we all know if you are over 50 and wake up at 2:30 in the morning your bladder demands you go to the bathroom since you are up, anyway, and then after that, with both of us up and peeing the dogs both think it's time to GET UP and get excited and... Long story short - I think I'll start closing the curtains at night.

January 12, 2012 - "A VIGOROUS DISTURBANCE." (This was the first line to a National Weather Service announcement I received yesterday in my email concerning the upcoming weather. I adore that line! Some words or groups of words fascinate me. That statement has just been added to the list of words or phrases that pleases my brain. It will work its way into my vocabulary to be used as situations arise.) At this moment the place I live is under a Winter Storm Warning - so we'll see how that pans out.

Closing the curtains last night worked for the Jake issue, who didn't bark and wake us up due to critter alerts. I am sure, however, now that the deer or rabbits noticed the window is unprotected, they will immediately arrange a party for the greater tri-state area animals. This morning I've opened the curtains back up and Jake has been watching intently and seems much happier. I'm sure the dogs can hear when there are critters out front at the bird feeder at night since dogs have such good hearing (except when it comes to words like "stop licking yourself incessantly" or "get down" or "stop eating the kitty litter") so I wonder why, if he was barking at critters, that he didn't STILL bark when he heard them. Makes one ponder.

I have heard from all of my children this week on and off and all seems well with them. The wee one has even been staying in touch and texting often, which makes me worry that he has a fever or something. My daughter had to take my grandcat in for a vet visit since he was constipated. My oldest just keeps working and working. I still try to be a good Mom and send them inspirational notes such as, "Get milk and candles, there is gonna be a storm!" or "Don't forget to breathe" or "When is the last time you cleaned your toilet?" - those types of uplifting message only a Mom can give. I have to admit a quirk about myself after reading what I just typed - if there is a storm warning of any kind, I have to clean first. Especially tornado warnings. I will not have my house ripped to shreds when it's messy. Odd quirk, but then again, I'm filled to the brim with odd quirks.

January 13, 2012 - The snow, she is here FINALLY and blowing around. (Days like this I wish I had a garage.) The disturbance is still vigorous at this time. Not a good day to wear a skirt or panty hose - so I am grateful it is blue jean Friday. Viva casual days at work. All of the big schools around here ('big' meaning the 'big city' schools that are always open even during apocalyptic events such as frogs raining from the sky and rivers running red) are closed. I believe it is due to the drifting of snow issue. I just went out to clean off my car and it looked like a boxed truck - the back window was packed in with a nice drift so it squared off my back end. Pretty cool looking until you have to clean it off. I believe my stylish old lady black boots are in order for today. (Watch for me on the cover of the February AARP magazine "Hot Chicks" issue...)

January 16, 2012 - Nothing new and exciting to report, really. I cleaned house yesterday. I changed the bedding yesterday. Hold me back, I'm living the vida loca.

We did go to the store looking for rugs on Sunday afternoon. That was something, but not exciting. I spent more than I had bargained for, that's for sure. You go in to buy rugs and end up buying a bunch of dog toys and dog treats and other stuff you really didn't need but IT WAS ON SALE, AFTER ALL... I love how the dogs can zero in on the ONE BAG that has their treats in it out of ten bags of crap. They just KNEW they had a present. They sat and waited patiently while we unpacked our stuff, knowing very well with their puppy dog eyes and such they would get a treat that was in THAT bag they had sniffed out...

Last week I had purchased a baguette while checking out of our local grocery store. (A baguette is a long piece of bread made in the deli that they can never sell during the business day so they hawk them in the checkout lane for .99 and the cashiers have to ask you if you want one under pressure from the grocery gods. I doubt they hear "yes" very often because when I said, "Yes, I'll take one" my cashier was almost ecstatic. "They MAKE us ask - they force us to sell them!" she said to me in a whisper, as if she'd get beaten revealing this to a customer.) I took it home and let it sit on my kitchen table until Saturday when it was nice and hard and I thought it would be a good bird treat for such a cold day.

I broke up the bread in to several bigger pieces and threw it out by the bird feeder out front, then came in and stared out the front window waiting for accolades from the grateful birds. ("Gosh, tweet, a baguette - tweet! What a kind soul lives in this house! Chitter tweet!") What I saw were several crows the size of Manhattan swoop in and carry those pieces to the field across the road. Ugh. Had I know they were going to do that, I would have left it whole and made it harder for them to haul off, but I suppose we all have to eat, yes?

My sister called early in the evening to report they were out of power at her house, and wanted to know if we had power. (We did.) Turns out there were a slew of people (2600 or so) that were without power to our East and South. Sigh. The power was restored around 11 p.m. last night, thank goodness. We don't have the same power company as she does, so that was good for us in a way. I could tell from the Facebook posts this morning EVERYONE was ever so happy to have power back and heat again. The online newspaper says it was caused by a "equipment failure due to a power line" so I'm pretty sure that was caused by some fat old crows stuffed full of baguettes running into said power line with their bulging bellies...

January 19, 2012 - We are having a "quick burst of snow" per the weatherman. It's quite windy as well. This isn't supposed to last long. It is caused by a cold front that is moving in to our area. When I got up at 5:30 a.m., the stars were out, and now it's snowing and windy. Mother Nature is amazing. (I say kind words about Mother Nature because as we all know from the Chiffon commercials years ago - "Its not nice to fool Mother Nature...") Speaking of which...

Ever since I got my upper molar fixed before Christmas I have had dull throbbing pain near said tooth. Nothing I couldn't deal with, mind you - I can take a lot of pain. I know from having lots of dental work over the years that sometimes after a filling it takes a while for your tooth and that tooth's nerves to settle down and get along again. I waited. Then towards the end of last week I noticed that it was not hurting anymore. I was quite thrilled. I enjoyed being pain free for the weekend. I was so happy I got cocky and chewed a lot on that side of my mouth again. I forgot the important wisdom I learned from a cartoon years ago - "Don't get cocky!"

Well, I got cocky. I was so happy that FINALLY something was going right in my mouth. However, this week that tooth has slowly gone from being 'OK' to taking a sledge hammer and smacking me upside the head repeatedly with the intent to topple me over with pain. Sigh. I pleaded with that tooth all week to stop and be good. Apparently I am too late in the process to reform this rebel molar's mind. Tuesday night I was up until almost eleven p.m. trying to calm it down. I brushed it. I flossed it. I swished warm water around it. I took aspirin and had the brilliant idea to use an ice pack on the outside of my face. This we ever so wrong. After the cold reached the gums, I nearly fell off the chair with searing pain. Something was whispering in my ear..."Peroxide...Peroxide" so I made a mixture of room temperature water and peroxide and set my WaterPik to low and flush that tooth out. FINALLY, the pain stopped. I jumped in bed immediately as this was my only chance to finally sleep.

Yesterday at work it flared up again. I did not bring any peroxide with me. I tried flossing, in case it was a piece of my breakfast oatmeal. This made it worse. I finally called my dentist and pleaded with Lori (a tech there) to call the Root Canal Doctor and refer me AS SOON AS POSSIBLE. "All I want is this to either for this tooth to come out or get its little roots ripped about and thrown to the floor with extreme prejudice." Lori asked me questions and such, and then she agreed it was 'time' so she said she'd call up to where they refer root canal patients and explain "ME" to them. She told me to call and get an appointment, but give her about a half an hour...

I timed it to the second, and call the Endodontist. When I said my name the nice lady on the other end cooed and giggled, "I just got off the phone with Lori and we are ever so excited about meeting you, Sandra! Lori said you are a real HOOT!!!" (She was a very upbeat type of young lady that talked in capital letters and italics and exclamation marks.))

"Yeah, I'm a big old hoot alright, but did Lori tell you I'm a problem patient? There are probably bio hazard labels and large red Xs on my file, really..."

"She said you were just a JOY and they LOVE you down there!"

"That's all fine and good and that really perks me up in the self esteem department and all, but did she warn you that I panic?"

"Oh, Sandra - things have come SO FAR since you had that bad root canal..."

She went on to explain the procedure, which to me sounded exactly like what I had done by the Evil Doctor 20+ years ago, to be honest. She assured me they would take good care of me and it would make me change my mind about my prior experience with root canals. "We have music for you to listen to and blankets and pillows to make you comfortable and..."

"...but do you use drugs?" I interjected.

"Oh - no drugs here, except the shots you get that will numb you from head to toe. You won't feel pain at all!!" She assured me.

"Pain I can deal with, it's the panic part I have issues with. So, um, no happy drugs, aye? You can't sedate me? No elephant tranquilizers laying around just in case?..."

"Nope! But you won't need those!!

She said the first time they could see me was next Tuesday, and upon hearing that my molar took a large kitchen knife and stuck it in my right eye ball and laughed loudly. "Oh, goodness, I'm not sure..." I moaned to myself..." "Oh wait, how about Friday? We can see you Friday!" I agreed to that. My molar was so irate with that decision and decided to lay out spike strips in my gum line and drive my pain tolerance over those for a while...

So Friday I will put on my Big Girl Panties and head up to the Big City and get that horrid tooth taken care of. I don't care if my tooth is reading this or not (it must be as it suddenly stopped hurting just now and feels quite normal) but I've suffered enough. I've always considered root canals to be the tooth's version of a lobotomy. Take that stupid tooth. I, Sandy, Fearer of All Things that happen in a dentist chair, will throw down my fear to have your evil roots ripped from you innards! This means war!

I got the dogs some Kong toys. Those big red things you shove treats in and let them chew for hours on end to get them out of your hair like buying a five year old a box full of Legos... Kia has been in 7th Heaven over hers, chewing and slobbering and chewing and slobbering. Jake, I think, believes it is below his station in life to work so hard for a dog treat. He stares at his and all, but he won't work to get it out. He did, however, figure out if he flings it on to the cement kitchen floor that the treat will most likely fly out without all that work. Creative.

January 20, 2012 - More snow is on the way this afternoon and the temperatures will drop. It already feels like 0 degrees, so I would say whoever planned this bout of weather is doing an excellent job.

Ah, those new Kong toys have been hours of entertainment for us. There are four new Kong toys you can chock full of treats - two 'bone' shaped Kongs and two Kong shaped Jake

Kongs. And wouldn't you know it, apparently only ONE KONG can be chewed on at a time by two dogs!! Amazing! They are siblings, my dogs, and sure act like six year old brother and sister. Sigh. The only good Kong is the Kong with treats left inside, of course, or the Kong your sister or brother happens to have at the time...

Yesterday morning, after attempting to eat a bowl of veggie soup for breakfast thinking it would not hurt my tooth since it was warm and didn't have sugar in it, then after almost falling out of my chair from the pain of eating it, I called my regular dentist. I asked for antibiotics. "If it hurts that bad, I can't think it is just a nerve gone bad, it has to be infected..." I pleaded. Lori said she had already talked to the doctor about me and they had decided that if I called again, they would call in antibiotics and Tylenol 3 for pain. "No pain drugs, just antibiotics, PLEASE!" So Lori called that in to my pharmacy and I sat at work trying to deal with half a face full of blinding pain. It was not working well. The boardroom at the end of our wing was full of auditors auditing and it just isn't right to cuss and swear and moan from pain and cry like a sissy when there are auditors about.

I left work at 11:30 and stopped to get my drugs, then came home to finish my work day. I am ever so happy I did not have to talk to anyone because the pain was such that it was almost impossible to speak without saying things like "OH MY GOD!!" and "SOMEONE JUST SHOOT ME, PLEASE!!" before each sentence.

Working from home helped as I could get up and rinse my mouth out with water and peroxide from time to time which seemed to help with the pain. Maybe I was eating away all the soft tissue in my mouth by doing that, but I didn't care. As soon as the work day was over, I shut down my computers and went to bed. My husband handled life without me for the night.

As I was in bed, I talked to my brain. Normally I am at odds with my brain since he is always wrong about most things (Yes, my brain is male, or at least that is how I envision it to be. A tall curly headed college aged male with thick black framed glasses who is only working up there to pay for rent and school. Smart as a whip, but also has a sensitive side when you can make him stop and listen and think) but the last few days I would have been lost without my brain. My brain has been a lot of comfort to me. (Yes, it's 'fantasy' but the power of healing yourself is real. So talking to your body parts is OK as long as you are not doing it naked in the middle of a big city, but I digress...)

"So, why haven't you been using a straw?" asked my brain.
"What straw?" I replied, acting innocent, (but seriously, I've pondered using a straw all week for some reason...)
"I'm been putting subliminal messages in your head all week about straws. Using a straw would bypass the terrorist tooth and there wouldn't be so much pain!"
"Terrorist tooth?" I asked, surprised.
"Yes, it's technically a terrorist. Note the other tooth, #18, patiently waiting for its root canal on the bottom. Half cracked and exposed to the world, it has not caused you this much grief, has it? It's still trying hard to do what it used to do and play well with others. Now, old #2 up there, she has broken away from the pack. She is in this to save herself and bring you down. If she could, she'd strap on dynamite and run screaming in to a crowd..."
"It feels like that already!" I lamented.
"I'll do what I can to get you through tomorrow's visit for the root canal. I can only do so much, however. The whole body 'remembers' things and they might throw out fear and such that I cannot stop. Mind over matter, my Dear. You control all of 'you' and I can just pitch a few ideas and turn off a few nerves here and there. This is all you, woman, but I'll do what I can."
"I appreciate that very much, Brain.
"Just remember, what happened all those years ago at your first root canal is OVER. You survived, right? I was there and saw what you went through and you did that all on your own! And from what I gather by eavesdropping on conversations, techniques today are much better than 20+ years ago. If you feel like panicking, call. I can flash up something to take your mind off of it. Got any preferences?"
"Oh, yes - can you do a mini series of the 'Dune' books - the way I think it should have looked and not like they tried to do on TV?"
"Sure - can do. Any particular book?"
"Um, just start at the beginning but be prepared, I will jump around..."
"Got it. You can do this. Pee before you go in to the office..."
"Well, duh!"

So that was my conversation with my brain in a nutshell. We all have fears and anxiety. Sometimes it gets out of control. We can either let it get out of control and continue to feed it, or we can try to talk to ourselves and come to grips with things. It is not easy. I spent years getting over panic attacks that nearly choked and paralyzed me. All those years suffering and all I had to do was learn to 'talk' to my body and self. Life is a a series of "one day at a time" moments, really.

January 22, 2012 - So I have nothing tragic to report over the root canal. It went just fine. I think it took more time for them to be sure I was up to an acceptable numbness level than the procedure took. My sister came along to babysit me, but she didn't even have to after all. (But it is always fun hanging out with my sister, nonetheless.) Plus she kept my mind off of things. I took one Klonopin* an hour before my scheduled visit and off we went.

Upon arrival to the nice office and after checking in, I made myself a cup of coffee from their Keurig coffee maker and took another Klonopin*. I love those Keurig coffee maker things, but I also feel they are a huge waste of materials for just one cup at a time, but like I said - I still made myself a cup of coffee and damned the landfills. Then, heeding my brain's wisdom, I went potty. The potty is located right back where you can see all the work rooms. They had patients staggered all over back in the work area of the doctor's office from what I could see. Immediately I was worried about this because that is what the doctor did to me years ago during my first root canal - he went and worked on another person while I was there freaking out with my mouth forced open by a large object. When I saw all these people in chairs (open offices as it were, just wall dividers between each patient) I thought, "Oh, great! It's a factory and I'm one of the widgets!" Well, I was there, I decided. I was NOT leaving there with those roots in my mouth come hell or high water...

The bathroom was beautiful - the colors were warm. There was a huge tray of 'goodies' - so I brushed my teeth, and took one of each from the goody tray and shoved them in my purse. Floss, toothpaste, rinse, etc. For $1000 I was getting as much as I could from that visit! The hand soap and lotion had a 'peaceful' smell. They knew how to work the aromatherapy aspect. Kudos to them. No sooner than I peed and filled my purse with goodies than the tech came looking for me to start. "Oh, already? I just made myself a cup of coffee from the cool Keurig machine!" "Bring it with you!" she said with a smile. (They must all be trained in 'cheerleader' techniques - everyone was upbeat and giggling or happy or attempting to be so.)

So back I went. First she took my blood pressure. (160 over 89!) "Oh, my - is this normal?" she asked. "NO! I'M TERRIFIED!" I assured her. She took x-rays of my evil tooth and the bottom tooth who has caused me no issues at all and is patiently waiting its turn to get a root canal done. The tech showed me where the roots were and explained what they were going to do. She asked me if I would like to listen to music during the procedure and I said I would like classical. She tested out different head rests until I was happy with one. She lowered me down to where I would be when the work was being done to be sure it fit there, too. She explained the rubber dam they would use. I slight twinge of panic burned my face. However, the rubber dams of today are NOTHING like the old days. They hook on to the tooth like a hoop skirt and do not clog up your whole mouth. We chatted a bit then the doctor, who was all of twelve years old I swear, walked in. He was a tall drink of water. I shook his hand and blurted, "Holy Crap, you are twelve years old!" and he said, "No, I'm actually 13..." and I said, "Good, because things may come out of my mouth that are rated PG-13 and I would hate to think I'm corrupting a minor." He noted I was holding a little stuffed Spongebob doll and I told him it's better if I squeeze Spongebob than his lower area and he agreed and thanked me. I also gave him a brief explanation of my panic issues and told him how much Klonopin I had taken and also told him to tell me when the dirty rat bastard roots were "outta there." I told him to throw them as far as he could.

The doctor did some thumping around on my bad tooth. Then he used an ice chip to test for cold sensitivity. Then he shot my gums, but I felt nothing. "Are you sure you are just jerkin' my chain? That was a shot?" I asked. "Well, you will feel this last one, for sure..." he said. Even that one was minor compared to what every person in the Western Hemisphere assumes it is going to feel like. "Already, I like you." I said to the doctor. He said it would take about 10 or so minutes to numb me up good, so off he wandered. The nurse put me back in an upright position and I told her I had better pee one last time. I went to the potty then came back and plopped back down in the chair, sipped my coffee, and waited. The doctor came in and asked if I was ready. "Never, Ever - will I be ready for a dental procedure but don't let that stop you...oh, and I want to switch my music from classical to Big Band." (This last request popped out of my brain without my prior knowledge or consent, so I had to trust my brain on this one. If he wanted Big Band Era music, there must have been a reason.)

They strapped on the rubber dam "hoop skirt" around the evil terrorist tooth and let me feel it out. Actually, the wire around the external bottom of the hoot skirt was a nice prop for my lips. I could still swallow and move my tongue (what I could feel of my tongue) and I could deal with it. Doctor began the excavation. Fast and precise. The music was wonderful. I concentrated on the music. Yes, there were moments I had a sudden urge to panic, but I would force myself to listen to the music and pick out every instrument or attempt to understand what the doctor and tech were talking about over my face, and when it got bad I would think of each muscle that was seizing up in panic and calm it down.

I felt some tugging. Three times I felt tugging. Then the doctor pulled my headphones away from my ear and said, "The evil roots have been banished. I threw them at the window but didn't quite make it..." I smacked him affectionately with Spongebob.

Then I could feel the clean up begin and shaping begin and the packing of the filling part. I got excited, it was almost over! (My mistake - If my mouth thinks I'm almost done, it wants to shut, and there was no way it was shutting. I had a brief moment of spastic panic, but I survived. They had to heat up the filling with a light to harden it, and I clenched my Spongebob with force. A little more shaping here and there went on, but when I felt the rubber dam snap off, I was ELATED. I was up before they could raise the chair to the upright position! Hahahaha. I made her take my blood pressure again - 134 over 79. "See!" I said as if I was five years old, "it was just FEAR!"

To most people, this would mean nothing. It was just a root canal. For Sandy, however, it was a victory over an major issue. I was so proud of me. I let everyone know I was a BIG GIRL and survived. As I drove home I babbled to my sister about what a BIG DEAL this was for me. (Sorry sis - I was probably a huge spaz on the way home - verbally.) After she left, I got in my car and drove to town to buy a dozen carnations to deliver to my normal dentist office. (The florist also gave ME a beautiful bouquet of flowers for free. "You always do such nice stuff for people, you deserve some flowers, too!" What a nice surprise!)

"CAN YOU BELIEVE I DID IT!???" I announced and I blew in to the office doors at my dentist's office. I presented the flowers to Lori, and she ran around the desk and hugged me. They knew what a big milestone this was for me. I also asked her to ask the doctor if I could have the other root canal that needed doing done before first then do the whole crown thing at one time. "I think he will agree with that!" she said. Another hug and I was out the door and stopping at the grocery store. When I got home I called my friend Kathy (who has been a huge cheerleader for me during this whole affair) and thanked her as well. Apparently a bouquet of flowers in my arms makes me feel like Miss America or something. "I'd like to thank Kathy and my Sister, and the Dentist and...

So that was the root canal adventure and it's over (for now - until old #18 is up to bat) and I survived and now the next adventure on the program today is to attempt to clean up four days worth of dog poop in the poop pen that I've let get out of control. Wish me luck.

*What is Klonopin? Klonopin (clonazepam) is in a group of drugs called benzodiazepines (ben-zoe-dye-AZE-eh-peens). Clonazepam affects chemicals in the brain that may become unbalanced and cause anxiety.Klonopin is used to treat seizure disorders or panic disorder.If I've never told you about the whole "Klonopin/Miller Beer" incident from 1999 or so, remind me to do so. You will laugh...

January 26, 2012 - I am almost embarrassed to post today since there really isn't anything to 'blog' about. The dogs continue to eat the stupid bird food from the stupid bird feeders that I put inside the stupid dog pen to protect them from the stupid deer, so I'm still cleaning up stupid dog pooh that looks almost mosaic in nature. (When that is the highlight of your day, something has gone terribly wrong in life...)

The week has been pretty funny at work in an "IT" tech kind of way for me at work. When you work with computers you have tons the opportunity to talk in innuendos and double entendres and giggle a lot in some situations anyway but sometimes dealing with issues in general can lead to hysterics. You get the moments of just plain "goofy" seizures forced on to you by circumstances beyond your control. The other day when we lost internet connection to the outside world, the phone started ringing off the hook. I just started answering it by saying, "The Internet is down and so is Lotus Notes (*our mail client) so thank you - come again..." then hanging up. (Very rude and unprofessional, actually, but funny at the time...)

One caller said, after I specified the internet was not up and running said in a concerned voice, "No, it's GOOGLE that's not working..." and it was all I could do not to wet my pants laughing at that point after so many calls in the first place. "How do you get to Google, (insert name here)?" I asked. "...Oh yeah...giggle..." Then I got really silly and wandered down to Judy's office (she is our Lotus Notes - Mail - guru) and I said in a serious voice, "Gee, I don't understand why we don't get internet mail when the internet is down.." and wandered off again. She came to my office a while later with a concerned look on her face and asked, "Were you serious?" and I burst out laughing. "No!" I said, "It's GOOGLE!" and more laughter ensued. Sometimes things just get silly and sometimes you just have to laugh.

My husband and I went to get "a few things" last night at the grocery store. I had a list of six items I needed. An hour later we ended up with a cart full and spending a lot of money. "How did THAT happen?" I asked him. "I have no idea, but times like this I miss the kids..." (Meaning there was no one to carry all the bags in to the house.) Seriously, how can two people need that much STUFF? I had gone through the fridge and threw away all the outdated stuff earlier in the morning, so why did I think I need more stuff to shove in there?!! Apparently I am in desperate need of 'Just Because You See It On A Shelf Doesn't Mean You Have To Buy It ' therapy. Ugh.

Thank you - Come again!

January 30, 2012 - I had dreams about Tom Hanks last night and I woke up being married to him and we had two young kids. I have vivid dreams all the time, but they don't usually involve movie stars. Odd. I found Tom socially awkward but of course that was an endearing quality...

Well, my temporary filling from the Endodontist has broken apart over the weekend. I am not pleased. My friend Judy had one that lasted for at least three weeks once... I don't know when it happened, I went to bed Friday night and woke up with the center of it missing in action on Saturday. Then I woke up yesterday morning with it split apart. Let us guess, I grind my teeth at night? Ugh. I am sick of dental crap. I will call my hometown dentist as soon as they open this morning. Side note, I have a sneaking suspicion that my dentist will retire soon, for some reason. I just get that impression. I don't want him to retire. My hometown dentist is awesome. I love those guys. I will be ever so sad when and if he is going to retire...but I digress. I will insist that they either rip the remains of that tooth out or repack it and do the bite impression and get a crown on as soon as possible. They were waiting on the report from the Endodontist, but I cannot wait anymore.

I finally started "my time of the month" last week. No wonder I was so goofy. (Makes me wonder if this has not been going on all month, these symptoms of "my time" as I did throw that cake on my youngest earlier this month...) This one is a rip roarer, boy howdy, as if it's making up for lost time. We all know I have issues with gravity during "my time" so the decision to clean for my Aunt Jean on Friday (had the day off as vacation, trying to use up my remaining vacation days) with my sister was perhaps a bad choice. You could wrap me in bubble wrap and I would still break things. Sigh. I was dusting her shelves and she was telling me about the butterfly candle holder her grandson got her and of course when I dusted said candle holder I broke it. I felt horrible. I wrapped the pieces up and promised to glue it back together. Then whilst in the kitchen and washing down cupboards, I swung open the refrigerator door to see if there were items I should 'pitch' and I knocked over a container of fruit cocktail. (I must say, it did make the floor shine in that particular spot, but I was getting dangerous.) Most women get bitchy and moody during their cycle and cry a lot and whine. I, on the other hand, obviously enter a new dimensional level in which I cannot cope with the distortion and drop things. I did manage to come home and put a pork loin in the oven without causing much damage, but then when I was gluing the candle holder back together and I glued my fingers as well. So I spent a half hour trying to get the glitter and glue off my fingers from that little endeavor. I should NOT be allowed out of the house...

It's the end of January already! (This fact just dawned on me, so I thought I would share my shock and awe.) I am looking forward to this weekend, though - my daughter comes home and we have our annual "Terri Time" event. It has been on the day of our local "Chili Cook Off and Ice Festival" for several years now. (Terri is our hair person. Terri rocks.) The first year remains the coolest, as the wind was whipping and the snow was falling sideways and they did a Spongebob ice sculpture right in front of where we were. By the looks of the weather this Saturday will be warm and the ice sculptures will probably melt before they are done.

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