The last couple of weeks have been crazy. Crazier than usual.
- I set myself the near-impossible task of giving the landing the makeover it deserved. I’m not done yet.
- My gender therapist wanted me to write my life story – in no more than 8 pages! No easy task, seeing that I’ve been around on this planet for over half a century.
- I had to take the violins to the luthier as both of them needed repairs. Badly.
- Someone came to see if I’m eligible to get a wheelchair with add-on drive, and couldn’t decide yet, meaning I have to go try out a couple of wheelchairs with add-on drives first and figure out which system would best suit my needs. I’m thinking Smart Drive might be the best fit for me.
- Also, I’d been putting off sewing curtains for the living room for months. All this time I had the fabric lying in a corner, shooting me accusatory looks – until I put it away and tried to forget about it. I can sew. It’s not hard. I just don’t particularly like it, but putting the job off isn’t going to get me anywhere, so I finally got started on sewing those curtains. They’re not finished yet…
- And last but not least I had an appointment with the oral surgeon. Oh, the fun!
So, my old friend the oral surgeon. Oh yes, I’d seen him before. And several of his colleagues too. I have bad teeth, and it’s not even my own fault. Collagen is a funny thing.
Anyway, I’d had a root canal treatment in one of my front teeth about two years ago. It wasn’t my first RCT and I very much doubt it will be my last. The tooth remained sensitive, so quite obviously the treatment hadn’t been successful. Nothing new there either. My roots are crooked, which makes RCT’s just that much more complicated. So something had to be done about that. My dentist suggested an apicoectomy. I didn’t think so. I just wanted the thing out.
Also, two nights before I had my dental appointment, I felt this all too familiar pain in one of my molars. The dentist confirmed my own diagnosis: another inflamed tooth. He’d gladly have done a root canal, but I didn’t think I wanted to spend my savings on a treatment that might at best give some temporary relief, so I told him I wanted that tooth out as well.
Now, because of my funny roots, my dentist won’t risk doing any extractions himself. He figures if the root breaks during extraction, I’d end up at the oral surgeon’s anyway, so why not send me there right away. Makes sense, eh?
So last Tuesday I was at the oral surgeon’s. My appointment was at ten to eight PM, but at a quarter past eight I was still in the waiting room. I had my book though (A Song of Ice and Fire: A Dance with Dragons), and I was in no particular hurry. At twenty past eight a nurse entered the waiting room, looked at me briefly, turned and looked the other way, where a woman about my age sat waiting and called my name: “Mrs. Smith”. She kept looking at the woman until I got up.
How cool is that? She read me as male! Go me! I must be doing something right. Maybe it was my ultra short haircut, or maybe the glasses that hid my thin eyebrows, but whatever it was, it made me feel great.
As for the teeth, they went out without much problems. That is, the molar went with no trouble at all. The little tooth, however, broke and belief it or not, but that hurt. It shouldn’t have, but it did. And when it came out, it hurt. And yes, the stitches hurt too. Anaesthetics don’t always work properly because of the Ehlers Danlos, but it really wasn’t too bad. It only hurt a little, so I wasn’t going to ask for more.
Now, two days later, my cheek and chin are swollen but the pain is like the noise of my computer: annoying, but easily ignored.
I’m still on cloud nine.