Thursday, August 10, 2017

"...Like pulling teeth."

A week and a half ago, on August 1st, I went to a periodontist to have an unfixable molar pulled from my mouth. I had broken a back corner of it off a number of months ago, and try as I might to keep it clean, the damaged had already been done and nothing could save it. I was given 2 options. One, I could drill it out, root canal it, and cap it and hope for the best it doesn't need to be revisited ever again. Or two, I could pull it and have an implant done that would never break or need to be addressed again.

I flashed back to sitting in the Nazi-Dentist's chair when I was a teenager. My Dad had taken me in a paternal gesture to my mother during their divorce. However, my mother was without insurance at the time and my father worked for himself and it was pre-mandatory-healthcare-for-everyone, so I was stuck with a low-cost dentist who operated on a sliding scale. I had most of my teeth drilled out, for reasons unknown, because every dentist I have seen after that has told me it was 1000% unnecessary and would likely result in me getting cavities even easier.

I call this man a Nazi-Dentist because not only was he rude and spoke with a foreign accent, but he gassed me against my will and wishes in order to do all of this work, and when the Novacane wore off halfway through (because, as I would find out many times later in life my body burns through anesthetics at almost a double-time rate) and I began to fight and cry in pain I was told it would cost my father more money to give me more Novacane and he could not afford it, so I was stuck there with these drills in my mouth for what seemed like forever (because I was still semi-out of it due to the laughing gas).

As you can imagine, I was scarred for life. It wasn't the pain, or the drills, or the needles that scarred me; it was lying back in that chair and feeling powerless over the person who stood over me that now gives me panic attacks when I have people too close to my face no matter what the conditions. I even made sure the Perio I saw, Dr. B, knew and understood that I had this fear, and that I had created a solution for myself to not only ease my anxiety but also make sure anyone who is working on my teeth or was in my face could do their job.

My system is simple, I wear headphones and blast music to distract me. But, I also have a hand-raising system where when I raise a hand, they know to back off and give me a minute to regain my composure. I do my best to hold off as long as I can, which includes death-gripping the seat arms and breathing in a ragged, anxious fashion.

Anyway, back to the story at hand, I went into Dr. B's office knowing I would not be allowed the gas because she was pregnant (I have no idea why it mattered but I wasn't going to fight it). I explained my claustrophobia as well as cleared my music request beforehand, and gave them the heads up that I would require LOTS of Novacane.

My mom took me to this extraction appointment, and I had cleared it with her the time and place and she picked me up and brought me there. However, when I was in the chair and numbed up and waiting for the Xanax to finish kicking in, she sent the front desk girl to tell me she had to go to another appointment (that she didn't even F*CKING tell me about in the NUMEROUS F*CKING times I asked her to take me to this appointment) and asked with annoyance how long I'd be. I was so pissed and embarrassed, I asked Dr. B to hold off in starting so I could call my husband. I had the desk girl deliver a message to my mother that she could go and I would find a ride home. With a numb mouth I called him, panicked and upset, and asked that he make a call to a family friend who was picking someone else up and asked him to send her for me, too. He agreed and texted me to confirm she'd be there.

So, now the dread sets in as I feel abandoned (ONCE AGAIN) by my mother and am stuck at the mercy of this adorably young Periodontist. The tooth removal doesn't go quite as planned, with Dr. B unable to extract the whole thing in one piece, and instead needing to break it off in pieces in order to remove it. I also forgot headphones, so I was stuck with the music behind my head but hearing them talk was even more nerve-racking! Eventually, she gets the whole thing out, having to stop, of course, to inject me with Novacane DIRECTLY INTO MY NERVE because injecting it around the gum area did nothing after about 5 minutes as I burned through it quickly. Even Dr. B was amazed how quickly I burned through.

After getting the tooth out, she then puts in a synthetic bone graft material and tops it off with a fatty white booger-looking thing (a synthetic membrane to cover the graft) and puts in 3 sutures to hold it in place. I get the post-op instructions and am sent home on my way.

Well, it's been a week and a half since that happened. Let me tell you it's been no walk in the park. Today I am still tender, and I still have an open wound in my mouth. At some point over the weekend I broke one of the sutures and the fatty membrane came off. It exposed the bone graft and there was a thought that I had either pulled the graft out and gave myself dry socket or it somehow got infected. An emergency visit this past Tuesday told me that none of the above happened, that the bone graft took and I just had some food in the wound and Dr. B gave me a special syringe with a pointy tip to help me keep food out of it while it healed.

And now to the reason why I'm blogging about this.


I seriously have eaten nothing but soup, scrambled eggs, and oatmeal since August 1st. And the beautiful thing is, that I just don't feel like I NEED food anymore. No, I'm not talking about becoming anorexic. I do still NEED food in my life. But, I'm not eating in portions or quantities that I used to. I know it has alot to do with the fact that I *CAN'T* eat the foods I want, but it's teaching me that I don't *NEED* those foods to live. I've been without soda for the past 10 days, and let me tell you I don't need to go back. I also had not had much else other than the foods I mentioned above, so it's not like I've been eating super-healthy (the soups are canned and of course full of sodium) but I have been making sure to also snack on healthy stuff like unsweetened applesauce, and cottage cheese, and fruit cups with no added sugar. It makes me feel like once this wound is healed and I *CAN* go back to eating whatever I want that I will be more conscious about what goes in my mouth. I also am vowing to take care of my teeth even better than before because I do not EVER want to do this again!

That is all for now, I will update you guys again after Tuesday when I see Dr. B for my (hopefully) last follow-up and let you know when I go back to eating steaks and pizza and best of all, SALAD!! <3

Sunday, June 11, 2017

If You're Tired Of Starting Over...

...Then Stop Giving Up.

Such a menial phrase. Yet it's powerful. Powerful enough that I have tried to stop giving up so many times only to give up and get frustrated and feel like a dog chasing its tail and never catching it.

If you do a Google search... this is what you get...

The images stretch on forever, and most all carry the same message: "If you're tired if starting over, then stop giving up."

I looked back over the years on this blog I had so many good posts. I look at the progress I had made and wonder, what was different then than now? Back then... I was at a job I hated, I had a gym membership but cardio was my only go-to (never weights), I would go for walks, or bike rides, or go outside even in the dead of summer when it was hotter than Satan's ballsack. Seriously.
What's going on in my life now that I can't be as successful as I was when I was unhappy for 40+ hours a week? Because I love my job now... I really do. Of course it's full of drama, and of course there are cliques I will never fit into, but turning 30 gave me a new perspective: Not everyone has to like me or has to be as friendly to me as I am to them, and now I'm learning to be okay with that. I used to need everyone's approval, and now I know that I only need my own approval (and at work the boss's approval lol). I have made a few new friends that are spectacular, and some other acquaintances that are fast becoming friends. I'm learning that it's okay for me to spend time with them and leave John to his devices; he's also becoming more social for my sake, often accompanying me to events and gatherings that normally he might not want to go. And if I wasn't so sure he'd find this blog (which, if he does, whatever: Hi honey!), I'd let you in on his birthday gift, but I'll keep that close to the chest for now.

Anyway, I'm going to be doing some soul searching this week. Really trying to figure out what it holding me back, what I think is holding me back (but isn't), and taking a serious inventory on how badly I'd like to lose the excess weight and get back to a healthy zone (notice I didn't say "skinny" or any derivative. I know I'm not meant to be skinny, but if I'm at a healthy weight and have a doctor's nod of approval, that's all I need).

I have a Yes.Fit race I'm currently doing: the Everglades Race, and I have completed only 37.1% since April when I started it. To compare to my kick-ass bestie Amy, she has done I believe 2 more races ON TOP OF the Everglades one since then. So, come July I had better get my ass in gear!!