Like I wasn't feeling old and crumbly enough. Comedy is all about pushing to a ridiculous extreme, so I gotta laugh. And remember my cousin Liz, who assures me that fifty is easy. And I'm only looking at 47. And both my grandmothers lived into their nineties. If this is only half way, I damn well better buck up.
Every day last week, motivating myself to get to work was an uphill drag. Work itself was fine, just getting past the door out of the apartment pulled. Yesterday, feeling much the same, and after wrangling with myself, I decided to take a mental health day. Right after I called in, I had a second cup of tea, and some goldfish crackers. I felt a crack and intense pressure. At first, I denied the likely. After brushing my teeth, I could feel the sharp edge of a broken tooth, way in the back. Not a lot of pain, although it began to ache all the way to my ear. At least I wasn't eating toffee or popcorn.
I am irrationally upset by the whole thing. My nightmare is to have my teeth crumbling. I'm not at all afraid of dentists, I am afraid of broken, rotten teeth. My first surgery in the OR was a kid getting a tooth extraction from the outside of the jaw, because the abscess had been so long neglected. I had an abscessed tooth many years ago, the clearing of which was amazingly painful. I believe in dental care. At least we have decent insurance, this time.
My dentist got me in by 0930, and got a temporary filling in. Repairable, the cap prep will start next week. I'm very relieved, and the filling very smooth, beautifully done. I thought about taking the extracted chunk of tooth, but what would the Tooth Fairy leave for me? A torn bill? A broken coin? I don't want to get on HER bad side.
Felt rather crappy the rest of the day, but resolved to make it in to work the rest of the week. Then, yesterday evening, I get a call at five, it's slow tomorrow, would I like to be called off? Well, I have the sick hours to cover, and this won't count against me, in fact I'll get credit for the low census day. Yes, oh, thank you, yes. Am definitely off, using the time to rest and heal, head and body both.
Moby ate some of the catgrass yesterday, and as expected, horked it up. Along with a broken red rubber band. No idea where he got that. Just good it came up.
8 comments:
{oo} 53 yrs
Well, I'm 58 and 47 seems like the prime of life to me!
Sorry about your tooth, though. I feel we ought to get a new set growing in when we're 50 as a nice compensation for other bits of us getting creaky. (And a sabbatical off work for a year, so we don't have to go into work with gappy teeth.)
I enjoyed your interview answers. Very interesting and thoughtful.
Yea for you being offered and taking the day off to rest and heal.
Teeth problems are a real pain.
Hopefully the short breaks from work help rejuvenate you.
I was curious about your blog name, so did a census on all of your posts. With very few exceptions you did keep to your one word post titles. Also with only perhaps a dozen repetitions, you have managed to use unique words. Both job and a form of the word nap appeared three times as post titles. Coincidence?
M, I,
Yeah, I know, I know. Still, ~feel~ old (grumble, grumble.)
Phil
Blooger used to alert me to when I reused a post title, but then that feature went away, and I got too lazy to check.
mbick,
whew.
you are a spring chicken compared someone looking down the barrel of 56.
I can boast the teeth of a 30 year old, but the gums of a centenarian...
I'm 55 but the funny thing is that 47 felt much older to me. Perhaps I just went into denial at a certain point.
I hope you enjoy your break.
Rosie,
You are not old, either. 80 is old, or starting to be.
RtheS,
It's the change that is getting to me, I think. Pain, illness, tiredness. Context, too. Joining the Army at 26, I was the old lady. Working in nursing homes in my 30s I felt impossibly young.
Post a Comment