Sort of as the next step after getting my braces off, I went to my regular dentist's office today to get my teeth cleaned.
So what can I say. It wasn't fun. It also wasn't a repeat of the tears-in-my-ears
drool-down-my-chin experience I had last time -- which was almost a year and a half, and yes, I do know I shouldn't go that long, thankyouverymuch.
It never fails: when I walk into any dentist's office -- save that of my orthodontist,weirdly enough -- I am that nine-year-old girl who sat trying with all my heart to focus on the joy of brand new shoes on my feet rather than on the high whirrrrr of the drill and the pain in my mouth and the tears in my eyes while the old dentist drilled and filled a tooth sans novocaine. (It didn't work well.)
And despite the fact that I haven't ever had work done without novocaine since, I feel that fear and dread and pain every single time I go. When I know and like the dentist, I can stifle most of it, although there are always a few moments of feeling sorry for myself.
I went to an endodontist in Indianapolis -- a father-son duo, actually -- for a crown, and had the son do the first root canal. He was kind and very good, and my fear was greatly calmed. Unfortunately, I needed another one a few years later, and the son was on vacation, so I ended up with the father, who proceeded to shame and mock me because I was so apprehensive, and I was too intimidated to get up and walk out. So I had it done by him -- and it wasn't painful: he did use lots of novocaine -- but I was a wreck emotionally, and never went back, and told my dentist to never recommend him to anyone.
Another dentist in Birmingham, Ala., was extremely kind and gentle with me when I began blubbering in the chair before he'd so much as taken a look at my mouth. He and his wonderful staff -- and his nurse was absolutely the best I've ever seen -- did fairly extensive work on me that summer, right before I left there for California. They used nitrous oxide, putting me at ease, but not out of it. I would have been okay, I think, even without it, but it sure helped. I got sick one time after a long session with it, but we were never sure if it was the nitrous or if I had a stomach bug -- I had to ask my ex to come pick me up, and I tossed my cookies several times. (The reason I remember it so well is that later that evening, my ex woke me to tell me that Princess Di had been killed...) That, and the fact that I lived on Wendy's Frosties for the next three days because I was swollen and sore.
I've actually had good dental care throughout my life, and have been personal friends with a couple of my dentists, so I'm not anti-dentist. I'm just afraid of the drill and the noise and the potential pain, and it all goes back to when I was a kid. No matter that I know it won't hurt, that I know they will be kind and caring. I'm still always, inevitably, horribly apprehensive.
Getting teeth cleaned has turned into a far more rigorous process than it used to be, however. Today, for instance, I had to gargle for 30 seconds with a prescription mouthwash before I even opened my mouth. Okay.....I guess I understand that.
The hygenist used topical anesthetic on my gums to help ease the discomfort, and began with an ultrasonic machine on low, which is efficient at flushing out pockets of bacteria around the gums.
Did I mention that for some time now I take the Advil-Tylenol combo an hour before to help ease pain, and usually will also take a low dose of an anti=anxiety medication to help that? Uh huh. And I bring music, preferably fairly loud and lively. Today it was Gustav Holst's The Planets, but I also bring Grateful Dead, Little Feat, and usually some choral music from John Rutter. Symphonies tend to work well too.
So I'm laying back, sunglasses covering my eyes, trying to relax into the medication and the music, and it's working pretty well. And then she hits a pocket. Oh, I know it's there. It's where everything gets stuck and I have to dig it out with floss or a proxi-brush, and it is like picking at a fresh scab.
Well, she dug a new basement on that molar today, and my knuckles were white on the CD player, but I just kept breathing and listening to Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity. It has a lovely section in it that is the basis for the English hymn "I Vow to Thee My Country," which I've written of before, but I never tire of hearing it. It helped.
Only two self-pitying tears escaped into my ears; no drool at all this time. I am grateful. It's been worse. (and all the braces cement is completely off now -- yay!)
I am grateful that my very kind and gentle dentist pronounced my teeth to be in pretty good shape after three years in braces and more than a year since cleaning. I am grateful for my wonderful Oral B electric toothbrush and the great flossing heads, and for those teensy little proxibrushes that clean between teeth and that were a godsend when I was in braces.
I'm grateful for all the work of all the dentists I've had (well, maybe not the cranky endodontist) that have helped me keep my teeth in good shape for all these years.
And I'm really grateful that the next time I am scheduled to sit in a dentist's chair is six months from now when I go back and get it done all over again. It'll be November, cold, rainy. That suits me fine.
Showing posts with label dentist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dentist. Show all posts
Thursday, May 08, 2008
Monday, March 31, 2008
The naked tooth
Three years, four months, 13 days ago, I got braces on my teeth for the first time in my life.
They came off today. It's gonna take a while to get used to naked teeth.
I'm delighted with the results, too. No, I didn't really need my teeth straightened -- had a little gap in the top front teeth, but not much, and that was just like my dad's gap. But I'd lost a lower tooth in the center front because of a perforated root canal that got infected over time, and I didn't like the options of implants (not insured and only "fair" chances of succeeding), a bridge (would have to put crowns on the two side teeth, plus potential problems with decay), or a prosthetic tooth (made me talk funny). When a dentist suggested orthodontia, I jumped at it, went for an opinion to Dr. Shoff, our local orthodontist, and he put 'em on.
My teeth are stubborn, apparently, and took their own sweet time about moving into place. My bite changed every couple of weeks; my gag reflex was very low -- I had to be careful about what and how much I tried to put into my mouth. Sometimes it was a little uncomfortable, but over all, no big deal. It was just all this metal grinning at me morning and night. And I always worried about big wads of food getting stuck in my wires.
No more. The bottom gap is closed (you'd hardly know), actually the top gap is closed too, and the teeth look great. I'll get retainers for night wear tomorrow, but no more metal mouth.
I'm ready for the popcorn. The caramels. The corn on the cob. And I'm grateful for dental insurance and positive thinking by both me and Doc Shoff. And for patience. It took twice as long as we'd thought it would.
Smile! I sure am. (but I never stopped, either)
They came off today. It's gonna take a while to get used to naked teeth.
I'm delighted with the results, too. No, I didn't really need my teeth straightened -- had a little gap in the top front teeth, but not much, and that was just like my dad's gap. But I'd lost a lower tooth in the center front because of a perforated root canal that got infected over time, and I didn't like the options of implants (not insured and only "fair" chances of succeeding), a bridge (would have to put crowns on the two side teeth, plus potential problems with decay), or a prosthetic tooth (made me talk funny). When a dentist suggested orthodontia, I jumped at it, went for an opinion to Dr. Shoff, our local orthodontist, and he put 'em on.
My teeth are stubborn, apparently, and took their own sweet time about moving into place. My bite changed every couple of weeks; my gag reflex was very low -- I had to be careful about what and how much I tried to put into my mouth. Sometimes it was a little uncomfortable, but over all, no big deal. It was just all this metal grinning at me morning and night. And I always worried about big wads of food getting stuck in my wires.
No more. The bottom gap is closed (you'd hardly know), actually the top gap is closed too, and the teeth look great. I'll get retainers for night wear tomorrow, but no more metal mouth.
I'm ready for the popcorn. The caramels. The corn on the cob. And I'm grateful for dental insurance and positive thinking by both me and Doc Shoff. And for patience. It took twice as long as we'd thought it would.
Smile! I sure am. (but I never stopped, either)
Monday, January 22, 2007
The 'I got them tears in my ears and drool down my chin goin' to the dentist' blues
I go to the dentist regularly because I know that dental health is important to overall health. I get 'em cleaned every 3-4 months. And I hate it. All of it.
My dentists through the years have been good people: sensitive, caring, efficient and thorough, and skilled. With the exception of one mean old endodontist long ago, they each have been very understanding about my dental phobias. And I'm a good patient, I might add, although when I've moved from location to location, I've usually procrastinated finding a new dentist until it's clear that something is wrong (usually a missing filling or a toothache), and then I go, cry at the first appointment, and then am fine (more or less) for any subsequent appointments.
(Even though I still need to take enough anti-anxiety meds to allow my whole body to rest in the chair instead of tensely balancing on my hands and heels and back of the head.)
Don't laugh. I'm serious. When I was a child going to the dentist -- sans any meds, and at least once sans any novocaine -- I was so afraid of being hurt that I'd be tense as a board. While the hygenist/assistant and dentist always told me to raise my hand if it hurt, I'd still cry through the procedure, a slow drip of tears. And more than once, when I did lift my hand, the assistant gently put it back down again, which just increased the tear flow because it hurt and because I was so intimidated.
Because my head was lower than my feet, the tears would leak out of the corner of my eyes and drip into my ears. I'd end up with wet face and wet ears, and feeling very sorry for myself.
I even wrote a column about it when I was a cub reporter back in the late '60s for the Springfield Missouri Daily News, and I got mail -- mostly from dentists, who were not thrilled that I'd talked about how the drilling hurt and the rather unsympathetic assistant who put my hand down and just patted it when I'd lifted it to indicate pain. One of them admired the bright smile shown in the photo that ran with my byline, noting that the dentist had had something to do with that. There also were a few who completely understood how I felt since they are also dentalphobes.
So today I got my teeth cleaned. I've been brushing with an electric brush and using all the little dental torture instruments the hygenist has recommended. And I wear braces, which makes all of it more time consuming and tedious. She commended me on the wonderful job I've been doing, but then pointed out the places I've missed. Eh. So we'll try to hit those -- at least in the couple of weeks before my next appointment.
And then she fired up the ultrasonic de-plaquer, whatever it's called.
When I get my teeth cleaned, I go pre-medicated for pain and at least a little bit for anxiety. Digging around these old teeth and new crowns can really hurt. And despite all of this, I had puddles of tears in my ears by the time she'd finished.
The sonic thingamabob whines its way around the gum lines and in between teeth with the occasional oopsie into gum or lip tissue which hurts like someone stuck a hot needle into it. She had both hands in my mouth (and it's big, but not THAT big) and my neck was crooked. There was a heating pad behind my back, which is supposed to help relax me, but all it did was make an uncomfortable hump between my shoulder blades and the back of my head.
Oh, I always bring a CD player with some kind of loud music that will drown out the whine and help me concentrate on something besides what's going on in my mouth -- but it only partially worked today. I could feel my body begin to levitate off the chair into the three point (heels, hands, head) position and my jaw was locked so tightly that the whole side of my face hurt. The little suction thingy hung over my lip, but trails of saliva mixed with water still drooled down my chin and I worked hard not to gag as it pooled in my throat.
I felt very sorry for myself. snifflewhimperpoutwhine
When she'd finally scraped the last shreds of plaque (and a little enamel and gum tissue too), I was offered a choice of chocolate, raspberry or bubble gum flavored tooth polish. Bleah. (Maybe they should offer adult flavors: scotch on the rocks, martini, merlot...)
And once my teeth were raspberrily polished, the doc came in, poked around with his needlenosed probe, and pronounced me fine. Thankyouverymuchseeyounexttime.
So I made my way to the lobby and scheduled another appointment in four months, and then went to the car where I wiped my ears dry and let my chin quiver and the tears flow. And I wondered just how old I'm going to have to get before I stop feeling like this every time I have to go to the dentist. Pretty old, I'm guessing, and probably with a goodly dose of dementia or amnesia thrown in.
I'm reading Picoult's Plain Truth.
My dentists through the years have been good people: sensitive, caring, efficient and thorough, and skilled. With the exception of one mean old endodontist long ago, they each have been very understanding about my dental phobias. And I'm a good patient, I might add, although when I've moved from location to location, I've usually procrastinated finding a new dentist until it's clear that something is wrong (usually a missing filling or a toothache), and then I go, cry at the first appointment, and then am fine (more or less) for any subsequent appointments.
(Even though I still need to take enough anti-anxiety meds to allow my whole body to rest in the chair instead of tensely balancing on my hands and heels and back of the head.)
Don't laugh. I'm serious. When I was a child going to the dentist -- sans any meds, and at least once sans any novocaine -- I was so afraid of being hurt that I'd be tense as a board. While the hygenist/assistant and dentist always told me to raise my hand if it hurt, I'd still cry through the procedure, a slow drip of tears. And more than once, when I did lift my hand, the assistant gently put it back down again, which just increased the tear flow because it hurt and because I was so intimidated.
Because my head was lower than my feet, the tears would leak out of the corner of my eyes and drip into my ears. I'd end up with wet face and wet ears, and feeling very sorry for myself.
I even wrote a column about it when I was a cub reporter back in the late '60s for the Springfield Missouri Daily News, and I got mail -- mostly from dentists, who were not thrilled that I'd talked about how the drilling hurt and the rather unsympathetic assistant who put my hand down and just patted it when I'd lifted it to indicate pain. One of them admired the bright smile shown in the photo that ran with my byline, noting that the dentist had had something to do with that. There also were a few who completely understood how I felt since they are also dentalphobes.
So today I got my teeth cleaned. I've been brushing with an electric brush and using all the little dental torture instruments the hygenist has recommended. And I wear braces, which makes all of it more time consuming and tedious. She commended me on the wonderful job I've been doing, but then pointed out the places I've missed. Eh. So we'll try to hit those -- at least in the couple of weeks before my next appointment.
And then she fired up the ultrasonic de-plaquer, whatever it's called.
When I get my teeth cleaned, I go pre-medicated for pain and at least a little bit for anxiety. Digging around these old teeth and new crowns can really hurt. And despite all of this, I had puddles of tears in my ears by the time she'd finished.
The sonic thingamabob whines its way around the gum lines and in between teeth with the occasional oopsie into gum or lip tissue which hurts like someone stuck a hot needle into it. She had both hands in my mouth (and it's big, but not THAT big) and my neck was crooked. There was a heating pad behind my back, which is supposed to help relax me, but all it did was make an uncomfortable hump between my shoulder blades and the back of my head.
Oh, I always bring a CD player with some kind of loud music that will drown out the whine and help me concentrate on something besides what's going on in my mouth -- but it only partially worked today. I could feel my body begin to levitate off the chair into the three point (heels, hands, head) position and my jaw was locked so tightly that the whole side of my face hurt. The little suction thingy hung over my lip, but trails of saliva mixed with water still drooled down my chin and I worked hard not to gag as it pooled in my throat.
I felt very sorry for myself. snifflewhimperpoutwhine
When she'd finally scraped the last shreds of plaque (and a little enamel and gum tissue too), I was offered a choice of chocolate, raspberry or bubble gum flavored tooth polish. Bleah. (Maybe they should offer adult flavors: scotch on the rocks, martini, merlot...)
And once my teeth were raspberrily polished, the doc came in, poked around with his needlenosed probe, and pronounced me fine. Thankyouverymuchseeyounexttime.
So I made my way to the lobby and scheduled another appointment in four months, and then went to the car where I wiped my ears dry and let my chin quiver and the tears flow. And I wondered just how old I'm going to have to get before I stop feeling like this every time I have to go to the dentist. Pretty old, I'm guessing, and probably with a goodly dose of dementia or amnesia thrown in.
I'm reading Picoult's Plain Truth.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Another reprieve from the drill
About that root canal: the endodontist's office called the day before I was supposed to go in for the real deal. Seems the doc had examined a series of x-rays of that tooth, and determined there'd been no changes for three years, and thus no need for the root canal.
There was rejoicing in this household on several fronts -- first, that I didn't have to go through it. Second, that I didn't have to go through it! And third, insurance never covers the entire cost, so this reprieve saved us a bunch of money. Oh, undoubtedly I'll have another eventually, but for now, I am okay. And grateful.
The sun has set on this quiet Sunday although it's barely past 5, and the dying rays are streaking the clouds with pinks and grays. It's been a cloudy day mostly, but very mild. No rain. We have not received the big rains that were predicted last week, although they're on tap again for later in this new week.
I like November's graying skies and transitional weather. It's my birth month as well as Tony's (we're six days apart, same year -- he's older :))), my sister-in-law's and my dad's, and capped off with daughter #3's. I like Scorpio's traits of passion and intensity, and fierce loyalty (okay, so there's revenge in there too...) Scorpio is a water sign, and my soul resonates with the ocean, although I've always just loved being near any body of water. It's time to visit it again -- in just a couple more weeks.
I'm grateful today: this month is one for giving thanks. I'm grateful for home and health and dearly loved husband, for children near and far, for my brother and sister-in-law, for extended family. I'm grateful for serendipities that grace my life and our business, and for friends who allow me to just be without any other expectation.
What a lovely beginning to this week. May it continue.
There was rejoicing in this household on several fronts -- first, that I didn't have to go through it. Second, that I didn't have to go through it! And third, insurance never covers the entire cost, so this reprieve saved us a bunch of money. Oh, undoubtedly I'll have another eventually, but for now, I am okay. And grateful.
The sun has set on this quiet Sunday although it's barely past 5, and the dying rays are streaking the clouds with pinks and grays. It's been a cloudy day mostly, but very mild. No rain. We have not received the big rains that were predicted last week, although they're on tap again for later in this new week.
I like November's graying skies and transitional weather. It's my birth month as well as Tony's (we're six days apart, same year -- he's older :))), my sister-in-law's and my dad's, and capped off with daughter #3's. I like Scorpio's traits of passion and intensity, and fierce loyalty (okay, so there's revenge in there too...) Scorpio is a water sign, and my soul resonates with the ocean, although I've always just loved being near any body of water. It's time to visit it again -- in just a couple more weeks.
I'm grateful today: this month is one for giving thanks. I'm grateful for home and health and dearly loved husband, for children near and far, for my brother and sister-in-law, for extended family. I'm grateful for serendipities that grace my life and our business, and for friends who allow me to just be without any other expectation.
What a lovely beginning to this week. May it continue.
Tuesday, October 24, 2006
Reprieved!
I was expecting to have a root canal this morning and had prepared myself mentally and physically, showed up with CDs and fresh batteries in hand, and was informed that it was only a consultation. Yeah, we've scheduled the real thing for next week...but I'm FREEE today!
I love happenings like that, when you're not looking forward to an appointment, a conversation, an event, and then it doesn't happen at that time. Okay, you eventually have to face it, but sometimes that little reprieve is such a gift!
So I'll make some progress on another newsletter, get a few calls in, and maybe even take a tiny nap. No other appointments today.
I'm enjoying these late fall days of sunshine and warm temps that cool drastically at night. It's the spring we didn't have, and a much better fall than many we've experienced. I'm picking tomatoes, finally, and have cooked a bunch of them down into puree and sauce which I'll combine with the still-growing basil for a tomato-basil soup and base, The zucchini and cucumbers are done; so are the peppers. The sunflowers have dried into stiff brown stalks that need to be pulled up and put on a burn pile. The marigolds are riotous in their frantic oranges and yellows, and they dot the still-green garden with big mounds of color. If they didn't smell, I'd bring them inside -- but their scent can be a little overpowering.
We took several photos to be framed for our upcoming ArtWalk and think they'll turn out well with the mats and good frames. It's like accessorizing a well-cut outfit: it makes the difference between something that looks pretty good and an outfit that wows everyone who sees it. While we're hoping to sell these, I'd be happy to hang them anywhere in the house too. A couple of them are up on our photo site, but they've been tweaked even more, and printed in a larger format. That was a biggie off our "to-do" list.
It feels like a time-out today -- what I expected to happen has been postponed, I don't expect any disturbing phone calls or sticky issues at the moment, it's sunny and nice, things are mostly ready for winter. (Okay, so there's work to do outside...but that's for this weekend, when temps cool down into the 70s) And Boston Legal is on tonight.
I'll take it. And if I'm not being too greedy, I'd like another one tomorrow.
Thanks to the universe for unexpected reprieves!
I love happenings like that, when you're not looking forward to an appointment, a conversation, an event, and then it doesn't happen at that time. Okay, you eventually have to face it, but sometimes that little reprieve is such a gift!
So I'll make some progress on another newsletter, get a few calls in, and maybe even take a tiny nap. No other appointments today.
I'm enjoying these late fall days of sunshine and warm temps that cool drastically at night. It's the spring we didn't have, and a much better fall than many we've experienced. I'm picking tomatoes, finally, and have cooked a bunch of them down into puree and sauce which I'll combine with the still-growing basil for a tomato-basil soup and base, The zucchini and cucumbers are done; so are the peppers. The sunflowers have dried into stiff brown stalks that need to be pulled up and put on a burn pile. The marigolds are riotous in their frantic oranges and yellows, and they dot the still-green garden with big mounds of color. If they didn't smell, I'd bring them inside -- but their scent can be a little overpowering.
We took several photos to be framed for our upcoming ArtWalk and think they'll turn out well with the mats and good frames. It's like accessorizing a well-cut outfit: it makes the difference between something that looks pretty good and an outfit that wows everyone who sees it. While we're hoping to sell these, I'd be happy to hang them anywhere in the house too. A couple of them are up on our photo site, but they've been tweaked even more, and printed in a larger format. That was a biggie off our "to-do" list.
It feels like a time-out today -- what I expected to happen has been postponed, I don't expect any disturbing phone calls or sticky issues at the moment, it's sunny and nice, things are mostly ready for winter. (Okay, so there's work to do outside...but that's for this weekend, when temps cool down into the 70s) And Boston Legal is on tonight.
I'll take it. And if I'm not being too greedy, I'd like another one tomorrow.
Thanks to the universe for unexpected reprieves!
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Getting older...it's patch, patch, patch
I'm slowly un-numbing from another session with the dentist, and this temporary crown may be a little off because it's starting to hurt a bit. I'm nice and mellow, but his office is closed tomorrow, so I want to call today if it's going to give me problems.
UPDATE: Spent another hour and a half getting the temporary corrected, but it feels much better, although the gum is raw. Guess I'll just have to drink milkshakes, hm.
And I've got new contacts that let me see the street signs again. I've got the beginnings of cataracts (how can I be THAT OLD) and the doc has warned me that within the next 3-5 years I'll need surgery, and until then, we'll have prescription changes each year. I'll get new glasses ordered tomorrow. But when he tested my vision and proclaimed, "you can still pass your driver's test with that vision," I had one of those "who is he talking about?" moments. The thought of my not being able to pass a driver's vision test had NEVER occurred to me.
I'll tell ya, getting older has some disadvantages, and the user's manual doesn't tell you about these glitches -- actually, I'm still trying to find my copy, which I'm sure must be around here somewhere. I am increasingly in awe of the 80-90-somethings who keep going and doing, and I am trying to keep things running well enough that I can be one of them eventually. My great aunt Fran just celebrated her 100th birthday, and while she has some problems, she's in reasonably good shape.
The achey-breakeys also get worse as you get older, and things just aren't as flexible as they were, which is my biggest motivation for yoga. My balance is terrible, and that's certainly a state of age. Yoga may help with that too.
It's ironic that as you get wiser and better able to see things as they are, and to care a lot less about what others think -- in short, to become who you really are and be happy with that -- physical stuff starts to deteriorate. Now I know that a lot of that can be staved off with exercise, diet, attitude -- but some of it you just plain don't have any control over: it's in your genes.
And once again, it's back to doing all you can, where you are, with what you've got.
Looking good at 80
We saw Tim Conway and Harvey Korman last week, and while they may be older (Korman is nearly 80 and Conway is 73), they still have the ability to put an audience into stitches with their comedy. There is no show on tv -- for the past many years -- that compares at all with the Carol Burnett Show, Laugh In, and other shows of that era. I don't know if it's because the variety comedy show is too passe' for the demographics, or because there simply isn't a comic who has the versatility to perform week in and week out the way Carol and Harvey and Tim and Vickie Lawrence did.
Geeze. I sound like a geezer in training, don't I ... "they just don't make 'em like they usta, sonnyboy..."
But there's some new tricks left for this old dog
Just a year ago we started a photo club with a core group of nine who met in our living room. Today we number between 20 and 35 regulars at our meetings, which have outgrown most living rooms and are now held at a local agency.
And many of us submitted photos to our district fair which opened today. We had to check out the exhibit, of course, and ran into several fellow photographers in search of the prize winners. I'm thrilled to report that out of our 30 entries, we ribboned on EIGHT, including two blues -- one each. They'll be posted on our photo site.
I've taken photos over the years as part of various jobs, but never like I've been taking them since I got my own camera this past year. We're having a great time, learning new stuff (keeps the mind sharp, we're told), and wooing the creative muses.
A while back I found a bumper sticker that I liked: CRONE.
That's not necessarily considered a complimentary term, but it is the third of three stages in a woman's life -- the first two being maiden and mother. Usually associated with pagan/wiccan traditions, it also has roots in Native American, Norse, Celtic, Egyptian and Greek lore.
This bumper sticker, though, was an acronym.
C= Creative
R=Researcher
O=Of
N=New
E=Experiences.
I like it. I don't mind being a Crone in that respect. May I never stop seeking new experiences and creativity!
UPDATE: Spent another hour and a half getting the temporary corrected, but it feels much better, although the gum is raw. Guess I'll just have to drink milkshakes, hm.
And I've got new contacts that let me see the street signs again. I've got the beginnings of cataracts (how can I be THAT OLD) and the doc has warned me that within the next 3-5 years I'll need surgery, and until then, we'll have prescription changes each year. I'll get new glasses ordered tomorrow. But when he tested my vision and proclaimed, "you can still pass your driver's test with that vision," I had one of those "who is he talking about?" moments. The thought of my not being able to pass a driver's vision test had NEVER occurred to me.
I'll tell ya, getting older has some disadvantages, and the user's manual doesn't tell you about these glitches -- actually, I'm still trying to find my copy, which I'm sure must be around here somewhere. I am increasingly in awe of the 80-90-somethings who keep going and doing, and I am trying to keep things running well enough that I can be one of them eventually. My great aunt Fran just celebrated her 100th birthday, and while she has some problems, she's in reasonably good shape.
The achey-breakeys also get worse as you get older, and things just aren't as flexible as they were, which is my biggest motivation for yoga. My balance is terrible, and that's certainly a state of age. Yoga may help with that too.
It's ironic that as you get wiser and better able to see things as they are, and to care a lot less about what others think -- in short, to become who you really are and be happy with that -- physical stuff starts to deteriorate. Now I know that a lot of that can be staved off with exercise, diet, attitude -- but some of it you just plain don't have any control over: it's in your genes.
And once again, it's back to doing all you can, where you are, with what you've got.
Looking good at 80
We saw Tim Conway and Harvey Korman last week, and while they may be older (Korman is nearly 80 and Conway is 73), they still have the ability to put an audience into stitches with their comedy. There is no show on tv -- for the past many years -- that compares at all with the Carol Burnett Show, Laugh In, and other shows of that era. I don't know if it's because the variety comedy show is too passe' for the demographics, or because there simply isn't a comic who has the versatility to perform week in and week out the way Carol and Harvey and Tim and Vickie Lawrence did.
Geeze. I sound like a geezer in training, don't I ... "they just don't make 'em like they usta, sonnyboy..."
But there's some new tricks left for this old dog
Just a year ago we started a photo club with a core group of nine who met in our living room. Today we number between 20 and 35 regulars at our meetings, which have outgrown most living rooms and are now held at a local agency.
And many of us submitted photos to our district fair which opened today. We had to check out the exhibit, of course, and ran into several fellow photographers in search of the prize winners. I'm thrilled to report that out of our 30 entries, we ribboned on EIGHT, including two blues -- one each. They'll be posted on our photo site.
I've taken photos over the years as part of various jobs, but never like I've been taking them since I got my own camera this past year. We're having a great time, learning new stuff (keeps the mind sharp, we're told), and wooing the creative muses.
A while back I found a bumper sticker that I liked: CRONE.
That's not necessarily considered a complimentary term, but it is the third of three stages in a woman's life -- the first two being maiden and mother. Usually associated with pagan/wiccan traditions, it also has roots in Native American, Norse, Celtic, Egyptian and Greek lore.
This bumper sticker, though, was an acronym.
C= Creative
R=Researcher
O=Of
N=New
E=Experiences.
I like it. I don't mind being a Crone in that respect. May I never stop seeking new experiences and creativity!
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
A little snarl with my whine
I spent the morning in the dentist's chair. I have, like so many others, a real phobia about dentists and am a wuss about going, although I've had very good dental care with some dentists that I really like. When they come at me in a white coat and they intend to peer into my mouth and use the drill, however, they are not my friends.
I have braces, nearly two years now, and regular orthodontic visits are part of that. They are not traumatic, probably because there's not a drill in sight. Mostly they take the little donut ligatures off and replace them, and sometimes replace a wire. It doesn't hurt. It's in and out. (Okay, so I don't look forward to having the brackets pried off my teeth. But that's not happening real soon. And it won't involve a drill.)
So while I was brushing my teeth before I left the house, my temporary crown fell out. Now that "hour of fun" as my dentist calls it happened a couple of weeks ago, when he'd decided that two crowns just couldn't wait for the braces to come off -- they happen to be the far back ones that aren't bracketed, so no problem, right?
Drills don't come near these pearly whites unless their owner is drugged. And I was more or less relaxed thanks to some nice valium that my very understanding dentist had prescribed. I had my CD player, fresh batteries, and an assortment of music that could be turned up to drown out the sound of the drill. Loreena McKennitt did a great job that day, and the drilling was vicious as it ground through a gold crown that was some 25+ years old. I just turned up the volume and closed my eyes. Not bad.
I was not prepared for the chair this morning, though, where I went as soon as I was properly donutted by the orthodontist. I wasn't drugged, for one. I had no music with me, only a book.
And to be honest, it wasn't bad. They'd gotten my new crown in and tried to fit it -- but it was too tight, so that'll come in another week or two. The drill didn't come near me. The dentist did deaden the area, though, which isn't great fun, but he is careful and thorough, which I do appreciate. And for the record, he is very good, very pleasant, and I like him. Except when he has a drill in his hand.
I'll go back in two weeks to get another crown drilled off, and you can be sure I'll be medicated with CDs in hand. And I'll have plenty of time to get myself prepared, unlike this morning.
I have braces, nearly two years now, and regular orthodontic visits are part of that. They are not traumatic, probably because there's not a drill in sight. Mostly they take the little donut ligatures off and replace them, and sometimes replace a wire. It doesn't hurt. It's in and out. (Okay, so I don't look forward to having the brackets pried off my teeth. But that's not happening real soon. And it won't involve a drill.)
So while I was brushing my teeth before I left the house, my temporary crown fell out. Now that "hour of fun" as my dentist calls it happened a couple of weeks ago, when he'd decided that two crowns just couldn't wait for the braces to come off -- they happen to be the far back ones that aren't bracketed, so no problem, right?
Drills don't come near these pearly whites unless their owner is drugged. And I was more or less relaxed thanks to some nice valium that my very understanding dentist had prescribed. I had my CD player, fresh batteries, and an assortment of music that could be turned up to drown out the sound of the drill. Loreena McKennitt did a great job that day, and the drilling was vicious as it ground through a gold crown that was some 25+ years old. I just turned up the volume and closed my eyes. Not bad.
I was not prepared for the chair this morning, though, where I went as soon as I was properly donutted by the orthodontist. I wasn't drugged, for one. I had no music with me, only a book.
And to be honest, it wasn't bad. They'd gotten my new crown in and tried to fit it -- but it was too tight, so that'll come in another week or two. The drill didn't come near me. The dentist did deaden the area, though, which isn't great fun, but he is careful and thorough, which I do appreciate. And for the record, he is very good, very pleasant, and I like him. Except when he has a drill in his hand.
I'll go back in two weeks to get another crown drilled off, and you can be sure I'll be medicated with CDs in hand. And I'll have plenty of time to get myself prepared, unlike this morning.
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