Ooh, Let Me Do That!

I was at Physical Therapy today for my "frozen shoulder" and, as usual, I was paying more attention to what others were doing than to what I was supposed to be doing.  I guess that's a writer for you.  You are always in the process of observing.

As I did my eight minutes of pulley therapy, I glanced over and there was my fellow sufferer, er, patient, Trixie.  Wait a minute!  Why was she just sitting there reading?  Hey, how did she get to do that?  She had some electronic gizmo attached to her shoulder and she was just sitting there in a chair reading her Kindle.  How come she gets the electrical gadgetry?  This is the 21st century.  I want to be hooked up to some techno-gadget that doesn't involve manual labor.

I looked further down the room and there was a lady sitting in another chair with one foot on a device that looked like a pizza plate balanced on a ball.  Um, guys......can I play "Tilt-a-Whirl" with my foot, too?  I have a broken toe.  It might make me feel better and thus more able to exercise my shoulder.

No such luck.  Instead they added "push-ups" to my routine.  Thank goodness they were only the standing up variety where you do them against a wall.  Hmmm, now if I could read a book while I did them, I might be more motivated.  Of course, when you are only doing five of them, I think I'd only have time to read the chapter title.  Sigh!

As I was mulling this over, I noticed a young man moving down the room on a wheeled office chair.  "Gee," I thought, "that therapist is pretty lazy if he can't even get up and walk down the length of the room."

By the time I saw him pass me the third time and saw that he was wearing a leg brace, I realized that he was a fellow PT patient and this was one of his exercises.  Wow!  I wanted to do that.  I'm ALWAYS going back and forth in my computer room on my chair like that.  Surely if I pumped my arms while I did it, that would be exercising my shoulder, wouldn't it?

Humpf!  My physical therapy team just has no imagination.  Try as I might to divert them to other activities, they just keep focusing on this darn shoulder.  Today they told me that the combination of the scar tissue, the frozen shoulder, and the extra-tight pectoral muscles are STILL making my shoulder area extremely tight.  True, but at least I'm not in pain anymore.  Tomorrow I'm going to get some pectoral stretches.  Oh, joy!  I'll bet it won't involve picking marbles off the floor with my toes.

This Little Piggy Went "Ouch!"

I was in Sunday School yesterday and we were getting ready to start.  We first share prayer concerns and praises.  Now our class is called the "50's and 60's" but I'm beginning to think we ought to be called the "Walking Wounded."  In fact, when someone walked in and said, "Does it matter where I sit?", I responded by saying, "Well, if you're injured or aching, this is the side for you.  If you are feeling like protesting the System or rebelling against something, take a seat on the end row and if you're normal today, head to the other side."

I wasn't kidding!  On my row, we had one of my best friends (well, in absentia but it's her normal row) who had to head to the hospital this past week to get lots of drugs for pain and inflammation because of sciatica and back pain.  We had me with the frozen shoulder and possible broken toe (more on that in a minute) and we had another friend who was busy describing the shooting pains across her bottom.  Her doctor was recommending back surgery and she was describing the procedure to another classmate from the "normal" side who had wandered over (but we'll make an exception for her because she was in pain yesterday, too).

When I heard her telling our friend how the doctor usually goes in from the front and has to move the organs out of the way to access your spine, while watching out for the big arteries, I figured it was either time to pass out or switch channels and tune in to the back row folks who were passionately discussing the recent vote on health care reform.  Oy!

Back to my darn foot.  I was coming back to bed from a nocturnal bathroom break in the dark and ran right into one of our recliners.  Actually, my little toe ran into it and I ended up hopping back the rest of the way to bed.  Other than being chagrined at my stupidity, I didn't think too much about it until I stepped out of bed Sunday morning and shooting pains came from my foot.  Yikes!

The Commander offered me some medical tape and suggested I tape the pinkie to the neighboring toe.  Great!  It's not a pretty foot to begin with.  I have a neuroma between the second and third toes that causes several of these toes to curl up rigidly.  It's sure not from wearing high heels.  Never have worn those except for the rare dress-up occasion.  It's just from the skeletal and musculature structure of my feet.  I had one on the other side but somehow that resolved itself over several years.  I have no idea how.  But back to the tape.  I told the Commander, "Imagine someone strapping a basketball at your waist and then having them tell you to bend over and tape up your toes.  My stomach is too big to do toe taping.  I can't breathe if I try to do that."

Perhaps it is time to crack open this book that I bought over 3 years ago.  It has sat on my bookshelves and I've never even looked inside it.  Maybe it will give me something to do while I have my foot elevated.  Just kidding.  My foot actually feels better today so maybe I lucked out and just jammed it instead of breaking the toe.  At any rate, it's a good thing that clumsiness isn't an illness or I'd be quarantined.

Who's a Dumbbell Now?

The latest on the Physical Therapy front is that they now say I have a frozen shoulder.  I made the mistake of looking up that term on the Internet and decided I'd better stop reading after I saw things like this:

- Can clear up on its own after around 2 years time.
-Therapy might consist of dislocating your arm from the shoulder cap and then popping it back in numerous times (I'm paraphrasing here but that seemed to be the general gist of it).
-If the therapy proves too painful, a surgeon can do the manipulating of your shoulder and arm while you are under general anesthesia but it is not uncommon for the patient's arm to get broken in the process (Yikes!)

How the heck did my shoulder get frozen in the first place?  I read on.  Seems that it can happen if you injure your shoulder.  I can't remember doing that but who knows?  Maybe I injured it in a "after 20-year" post-chemo brain fog.  Or maybe Mad Cow Disease finally caught up to me after eating that Steak Tartare sandwich in Germany in the 70's and I went on some violent shoulder-whacking binge unbeknownst to me.  Or it could be that folks with hypothyroidism and osteoporosis are prone to these shoulder incidents (more likely in my case).

I think I'll just stick with the physical therapy for now but that doesn't stop me from complaining about it.

"I really wish I could sit around and pick up marbles with my toes instead of having to do those stretchy band exercises, " I was complaining to the Commander.

"You don't have a problem with your toes," he replied.

Hmph!  No sympathy from him.  I tried the same thing on my therapist today.

"If you think picking up marbles will help get you ready for all the band exercises, you can pick up as many as you want," he said.

They have graduated me to two-pound weights for several exercises I do where I lift my arm in different directions.  I've already almost cold-cocked one therapist with the weight (totally by accident) and just missed another's jaw the other day.

They're giving me a wide berth now when they see me with a weight in my hand.  Hmmm, maybe I could work this into a bargaining chip.

"Really, I think I'd be much less of a threat to everybody if you just sit me down at one of those little tables, put an ice pack over my shoulder, give me a nice neck massage, and let me pick up paper clips and put them into a little box for ten minutes," I could say.

Sounds like a plan to me.

Don't Read the Fine Print!

I got a refill in the mail recently of some medicine that I take to help prevent migraines.  It is actually an anti-epileptic drug but it has been successful in preventing the classic migraines that I tend to get.  I take it every day and it has been a godsend.  Up until now, I've never actually read the literature that my prescription company sends in the package.  That stuff is always so alarmist, don't you think?  But the other day, I happened to skim over the possible side effects and ......oh, my!

"Hey, Honey," I said to the Commander who was happily playing "Welder" on the iPad.  "This medicine can make me depressed.  Have I seemed any more depressed than usual?"

He made no comment.  

"Whoa, listen to this.  It can give me worse anxiety.  That's not good.  I'm already one of the most anxious people I know.  And, oh my gosh, it can give you panic attacks, Honey!", I squeaked.  

I hyperventilated over that for a few minutes but then remembered that I'm on an anti-anxiety drug.  

"Hey, don't worry, Honey," I called over to him.  "I think that other stuff will cancel this stuff out."

"Oh, oh.....this stuff can make me act on dangerous impulses," I continued.  "Do you think I've been acting unusually impulsive?"

"Dee," he replied.  "You always act impulsively.  You've been that way ever since I met you.  Don't worry about it."

"Hey," I yelled over at him.  "Listen to this.  It says it can make me act aggressive, angry or violent AND it can give me worse irritability.  Have I been acting irritable lately?  (no response)   Don't make me come over there!  Have I?"

The Commander looked calmly over my way.  "Put the sheet down, Honey.  Just stop reading it," he said.

He was right.  I decided it was much better to be an irritable, aggressive, impulsive person that to have to worry about getting a migraine any time of the day or night.  So today I impulsively decided to try a new recipe for Split Pea Soup in the new crock pot.  Soup is always a nice comfort food.  Besides, I ate up all the cake in the house.  Wouldn't you know, the Commander just texted me to say he'd be working late and to go ahead and eat without him.  Seriously?  A whole crockpot of split pea soup?  Well, rather than get my knickers in a knot, I think I'll just help myself to a nice bowl of soup, put my feet up and settle back with a good book.  Now THAT is the best kind of medicine!

Rockin' the Old Marley Look

I've survived Surgery #2 in the "Great Dental Implant Adventure."  Once again, I'm looking like Old Marley in Dickens' A Christmas Carol.  The good news is that the procedure is over.  Yay!  There's more good news.  I'm not in any pain.  I'm not bruised up.  I'm semi-coherent.  Although when I look at this picture, taken right after I got home, I wonder what in the world they were doing.  It looks like they attached a Lamprey fish to my cheek.  I vaguely remember the nurse also telling me that they had put a tube up one side of my nose.  That would explain why one nostril is suddenly so much bigger than the other.  You know, I slept so well last night though, that I'm thinking I should go back and ask if they'd stick a tube down the other side and get THAT side stretched out, too.  Maybe I could finally breathe easier.

The bad news is that I can't drink or eat anything hot for 3-4 days.  I miss my coffee.  I REALLY do.  I am also supposed to do this ice pack rotation at least for one more day.  Ugh!  The day of surgery we were doing it 30 minutes on and 30 minutes off.  Today I'm doing it 30 minutes on and giving myself an hour off between icing sessions.  They tell me that the peak swelling will occur 72 hours after the surgery. Hmm, my first surgery didn't follow that pattern so I'm hoping that this is as bad as it gets.

I'm also hungry.  I've been living on applesauce since yesterday after the surgery.  I branched out this morning and had some Cream of Wheat after I let it get cold.  What joy!  Yeah, right!  I'm about ready to take off the ice pack and drive a few blocks over to Dairy Queen and bring home a sundae.  I'm not on Vicodin today so I might be able to manage that much without any incidents.

Speaking of medication, I'd just like to say that I LOVE my anesthesiologist.  That man can work miracles.  It was so much easier going into this surgery knowing that I would be easily knocked out before they stuck any needles into me.  My guy was a cheery fellow and we were happily sharing stories about living overseas and cultural differences when the doctor walked in.  I almost felt like asking him if he wouldn't mind stepping out and giving us another 5 minutes to finish our conversation but then I reconsidered.  It's probably not a good idea to piss off your surgeon.

"So, are you ready for me to get this screw in your jaw," he asked.

"Sure, what's one more,?" I replied.  "I already have a few loose ones knocking around in my head."

Then it was a few deep breaths into a mask and some lively dreams and suddenly a nurse was asking me if I could slide onto a bed in the recovery room.  Her next step was to remove the IV in my arm which I didn't even feel, which just goes to show you how out of it I still was.  Before too long, the Commander was trying to keep me from playing Pinball with my body as I walked down the hall to the exit and we were on our way home.  Bless his heart.  He took down the discharge instructions and then got to play nursemaid the rest of the day and evening, keeping me on schedule with the ice packs and pills.

I had high hopes of getting lots of knitting done yesterday after the surgery while watching some TV.  Instead, I slept the rest of the morning and all afternoon and didn't rally until about 8 p.m. when So You Think You Can Dance kept me interested enough to keep my eyes open.  When I went to bed, part of my lips were still numb from the Novocaine, too.  Luckily I can feel my face this morning.

Now today the Commander is back at work and I'm in charge of my own medication.  Since I'm still in no pain, I decided to forego the Vicodin and just use Ibuprofin.  I've lowered the dose, too and am taking it at intervals that are further apart.  So far, no problems.  Thank the good Lord for competent doctors, staff, and lots of friends praying.

The last phase in all of this will be in September when I return from babysitting in Texas.  My regular dentist will be putting a tooth on the post that is now implanted in my jaw.  Boy, will I be glad when this is all finally over.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to the recliner to snooze.

Stocking Up on Ben Gay

My shoulder has been bothering me for a month and a half now.  I finally had gone to the doctor who thought it was bursitis and prescribed anti-inflammatory drops.  I had told her that I did NOT want a cortisone shot nor did I want surgery.  After doing the drops for awhile, there still was no improvement so I bit the bullet and called her again and this time we decided to try some physical therapy.

Now it's been over twenty years since I last had physical therapy.  My PT had lasted exactly one session.  It was the same day I had my staples removed after the mastectomy for breast cancer.  I'll never forget that session.  The therapist was a real gem......NOT!  He was actually a bully and about as unfeeling as a rock.  I was taken to PT directly after having the staples removed and the first thing the guy did was have me lay down on a table and then he said, "Let's see how far you can move your arm."  Before I could even do anything, he grabbed my wrist and pulled my arm completely back above my head and down to the table.  I screamed.

"Oh, don't be such a baby!  Do you want that shoulder to freeze up?" he said.

The session went downhill from there.  When I got back to my room, I was in tears.  I told the nurse what had happened and she told my doctor and he pulled me out of PT and that was my one and only experience with physical therapy.  So naturally, I was a little nervous about going into the lion's den again after all these years.

I showed up yesterday, logged in and sat in the waiting room listening to two ladies in assorted braces swapping war stories.  I was praying that whoever came out to call my name would be a.  female and b. kindly and jolly.  When I heard my name called, they were neither.  It was a big, burly guy dressed in dress slacks, shirt and tie.  Not exactly my mental image of a physical therapist.

We went back to his office and sat down and he went over my completed paperwork.  I told him what kind of movements gave me pain and then he said, "Let's have you stand up and I'll check your posture."

I stood up and before I could even suck in my stomach, he took one look and said, "Oh, oh.....I think I can see what the problem is right now."  Yikes!  So he pushed and prodded on my shoulder area and the back of my neck and then told me to lay down on the table.

"Um, I don't do too well lying flat on tables," I told him.  "You know, it's the way my back is shaped.  It doesn't lay flat."

"It's called a dowager's hump," he replied.

Well, thank you, Mr. Sunshine.  As if I didn't know what this Quasimodo that I've been carrying around on my upper back for the past 20 years is called.

He moved my arm around and took measurements.  Ow!  Ow!  At least this fellow eased up when I'd say OW!

Then I had to sit up and try pushing against his hands in different directions.  I misunderstood him at one point and pushed in a direction he wasn't anticipating, ending up punching him in the stomach.

"Ooof!", he groaned.

"Sorry," I said.  "That's for that one measurement that really hurt."

The consensus was that my shoulder pain was NOT from bursitis.  It was actually from several factors.  The scar tissue from my mastectomy years ago and the hunching over of my shoulders from years of bad posture, sitting at a computer desk, and the deterioration of my bones from osteoporosis was causing my shoulder tendon to get pinched during certain movements.  My range of motion in that arm was now less than half of what it should be.

Finally it was time to go out into the main room and try some exercises.  He would demonstrate an exercise and then let me repeat it myself for 15 reps.  I was doing one with this rubberized band that made me think of a left-handed Heil Hitler salute when he came over to ask me how it was going.  Bad timing.  I was right in the middle of pulling my arm up.  POW!  My fist got him right in the jaw.  Oops!

He turned me over to his assistant, a nice young college intern.  Now SHE was a bubbly person.  She showed me how to do an exercise for the upper trunk and I began my reps.  Hmmm, I thought.  This is exactly like one I used to do all the time when I was a teen.  "Hey," I whispered to her, "This is the old 'We must, we must, we must increase the bust' exercise.  Every woman knows this one."

"You're right!", she laughed.

By this time, I had noticed two women peddling away on some stationary reclining bikes in the middle of the room.  They were both reading on Kindles.

"I want whatever exercise THEY'RE doing," I said to my therapist.  "Then I can read on my Kindle."

"There's nothing wrong with your legs", he replied.

I did another exercise where I stood facing sideways to the rubber band and then was supposed to pull the band straight-armed down to my hip and then back up at a 90-degree angle.

"Um, what if my hips are extra big?" I asked my therapist.  "It seems like I won't be getting the full benefit of this exercise because I could stop a lot sooner than the normal person."

He looked at me for a long moment.  "Work with me here," he finally said.

"It's the Van Rossum hips," I whispered to his assistant.  She grinned.

It wasn't long before we were finished and I was given the option of icing my shoulder there or waiting and doing it at home, if it became sore.  I opted for home.  I could swear that my therapist looked a tad relieved.

I'm heading back over today and tomorrow for more therapy.  Should be interesting.  This is almost as much fun as yoga class and I don't even have to do that darn Downward Dog.

Curing the Winter Blues

You would not believe how glad I am that Spring is just around the corner here in my little neck of the woods.  I'm one of those people that has SAD, also known as Seasonal Affective Disorder.  It makes you feel rather down in the dumps when the days are short and sunlight is scarce.  In my own experience, I almost feel like I'm going into hibernation.  I avoid going out unless I absolutely have to.  I don't have a lot of energy.  I feel morose and find myself thinking things like "No wonder the Icelandic people wrote such violent sagas.  That's what cold and living in darkness for months at a time will do to you."

 However, once the days start to lengthen and the sun is out more and more, I can feel myself opening up like a morning glory basking in the early morning sunlight.  I feel almost giddy.

If you're a SAD sufferer, I wish you could have a day like I'm having.  It doesn't get much better than driving through the suburbs or countryside, temps in the 70's,  looking at the flowers and the trees budding, with the car windows down and Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Call Me the Breeze" blasting from my stereo.  The only thing that's keeping me from hugging perfect strangers is my seatbelt.  Happy St. Patrick's Day!

What a Relief!

Well, my dental surgery #1 is over and I survived.  Even though I'm looking like old Marley the Ghost in this post-operative picture (and no, that isn't a flokati rug on my lap; it's Fresca the Wonder Dog), I feel pretty darn good.

Yesterday came way too early when I got up at 6 a.m. to take the Valium pill that the oral surgeon had prescribed to calm me down prior to the surgery.  Oh, he had also given me one to take the evening before.  Wouldn't you know, it got stuck in my throat so its effects were VERY slow in taking over.  Since my throat opening is so tiny, I often have that happen where a pill will get stuck in my windpipe and usually I just eat a small cube of bread or a cracker and that helps wash it down the rest of the way.  This time, I couldn't eat anything since I was having the surgery early the next morning so I was as stuck with the situation as the pill.

Anyway, back to the saga.  The morning of the surgery, the pill went down fine.  Hooray!  However, I had so much fear adrenalin pumping that I didn't really feel calm at all when we headed over to the surgical center.  I was NOT happy.

When the nurse called my name and we started down the hall, she asked me, "How are you doing today?"

I must have given her quite the look as I replied, "I'm terrified,"  because she said "Oooh, well let's see what we can do to help you feel better."

Pretty soon the doctor popped in along with the anesthesiologist, who looked like he had just graduated from high school.  The anesthesiologist quickly assessed the situation and, realizing that my fear of the IV insertion was the main problem, decided to put me under with the mask. Then he'd put in that IV without me having to even know what was happening.  I don't know what they gave me but he told me it would smell like markers and just to breathe in and out.  I remember asking him if I should breathe through my mouth or my nose and he said it didn't matter.  I took 2 or 3 breaths, he told me I was doing great, and then the nurse was asking me if I could stand up to transfer over to the little bed in the recovery area.  Now THAT'S how to have a tooth pulled.

I was in at 8 a.m. and out and home by 10:15.  Once home, I dutifully iced the area 30 minutes on and 30 minutes off until I went to bed.  This kept the swelling down so that I looked fairly normal by late afternoon (well, as normal as one can look without makeup and having ice-pack hair).  The Commander was a perfect nurse, taking the ice pack, bringing me a refreshed one, bringing me soda pop, and keeping track of my medicine schedule.

Speaking of meds, I've been following the schedule religiously.  I alternate Vicodin with Advil.  I restarted my antibiotic after getting some perogies down last night.  Today I'm trying to reintroduce my regular medications, being ever mindful that I don't want to get an upset stomach.

I can see that I DID have an IV but there is no pain at the site and almost no bruising.  Fantastic.  I also haven't seen any bruising on my face yet either.  Oh yes, after I was semi-coherent in the recovery room and getting my instructions from the nurse, I discovered that they didn't have to do the sinus lift.  That was good news because it meant there would be less swelling and/or bruising, amongst other things.

I've been keeping myself entertained with my iPhone, the iPad, and my Kindle and also watching lots of cable TV.  I watched several movies yesterday including one about the origins of the X-Men (I enjoyed it) and The Black Swan (I did NOT enjoy that movie).  I also started watching the episodes of Detroit 1-3-7.  It's been cancelled after one season but I'm really enjoying it.  My brother lives right outside of Detroit and I can recognize some of the landmarks.  Plus it stars one of my favorite actors, Michael Imperioli.

All in all, I had a lot of people praying for me and I think that really made a difference.  God is good!  I'm certainly not as anxious now about the second surgery but that won't be for another three months.  If any of you are facing oral surgery for implants and are like me (a big chicken), I can now tell you that it wasn't bad, especially being put to sleep before the IV.  Whew!  Now if you'll excuse me, this chicken is going to go roost in a recliner.

WHY Did I Read That Pamphlet?

I think there should be a rule that people who suffer from General Anxiety Disorder should NEVER be allowed to read those post-operative handouts that doctors give you.  Just when I thought I was managing to calm myself down about my upcoming dental surgery, I made the mistake of deciding to read the Post-Operative Instructions that my surgeon gave me.  Big mistake!  Now I'm beyond scared.  I'm frantic!  Here are some of the things I discovered:

1.  I can expect SIGNIFICANT swelling.  Notice I didn't say "may".  Oh no!  The handout lays it right out there on the line and says "you WILL...."  Gulp!  Is this going to be like "tie a string around my neck and call my head a balloon" swelling?  Or "if Quasimodo's hump was his head, that's what my face will look like" swelling?  Add in the expected bruising and I think we could be talking a mixture of "Swamp Creature" and "Bride of Frankenstein."

2.  Because I'm also getting a bone graft, I will most likely be spitting out bits of bone for several days AND now, apparently, I might feel bone fragments through my nose.  News flash!  As big as my sinuses are and as small as my nose openings are, there isn't much room to play around in there.  What the heck, guys?

3.  Don't blow your nose!  Excuse me?  I have chronic sinusitis.  If I don't blow my nose, I don't breathe.  I'd consider breathing through my mouth but apparently I'm going to have bone fragments swimming around in there PLUS I'm supposed to be biting down on hunks of gauze for 30 minutes at a time.  Let's see.....bone fragments, hunks of gauze.....Why don't we invite the whole freakin' neighborhood, shall we?  I have a TINY mouth.  There's no room for all this stuff.

4.  Take a decongestant to dry up your sinuses so you don't have to blow your nose.  Okey dokey!  There's only one problem with that.  They make my nose run.  Guess I'll just lean over and let my nose drip onto a spare gauze pad or two.  Oh wait.....I'm supposed to remain vertical if at all possible.

5.  Avoid hot food or drink for 3-4 days after surgery.   I didn't think this would be a hardship.  After all, there's always Dairy Queen.  But wait.....I'd forgotten that dairy food is a no-no after you've had general anesthesia.  Until it is out of your system, dairy products can make you violently nauseous.  Oh joy!  Jello, anyone?


On top of all this, well-meaning friends, when they discover that I'm going to have a sinus lift in addition to the dental extraction/bone graft, have been telling me how dangerous sinus surgery can be.  Apparently if the doctor slips and nicks you in the wrong spot, fluid can leak into your brain cavity (or something like that) and you can die.  Um, that's so NOT what I need to hear right now, guys!

6.  No drinking liquids through straws.  OK, how about just chugging straight from the bottle?

6.  Be sure to take the prescribed pain medications BEFORE you start experiencing bad pain.  What was it that The Monkees used to sing?  "I'm a Believer?"  You don't have to tell me this twice.  I just want to know who is going to change those gauze pads for me.  After all, I couldn't even do it for my own son when he had his wisdom teeth out.  How in blazes am I going to be able to do it for myself?

To think that the dental surgeon told me that it wasn't going to be a bad surgery.  If I'd read the pamphlet before I'd heard that, I swear I would have leaned over and gotten right up in his face and said, "What planet are you from if you think THIS isn't bad?  Are you a masochist?"

To paraphrase our old preacher from back home, "It's Friday, but Wednesday's comin'."  Lord, help me!

Stupid Tooth

Can you tell what is in MY future?  I'll give you a clue.  It doesn't involve EATING veggies. I'll probably be "wearing" them, though, on the side of my face next week.

Today I headed on over to the oral surgeon to have my consult for my upcoming dental surgery.  My cracked and infected molar has to come out and then I'm facing a dental implant.  I'll be honest with you.  I was terrified as I headed over there and it was only the consult, not even the surgery.

The nurse looked over my completed paperwork, took some xrays, and then started to go over the procedure for the first surgery.  Oh, first she had me sign and initial the waiver with all the things that can go wrong with surgeries like this.

"You can go ahead and read all of that," she said, "but seeing how nervous you are about this, you might not want to."

I couldn't have agreed more.  In fact, I told her she could just give me the abbreviated version of the surgery.....the REALLY abbreviated version, like....they put you out, remove the tooth, and wake you up.  That was good enough for me.  I'm really squeamish about hearing details.

The doctor came in and we chatted a bit.

"I understand that you're a bit anxious," he said.

"I'm terrified," I replied.  "I'm particularly terrified of the IV.  I don't want to feel any anxiety when they insert that IV.  You've got to give me something to take before they do it so that I am really relaxed, OK?  The last person who tried to put an IV in my arm screwed it up and I ended up curled in a fetal position trying not to be sick to my stomach.  They had to grab the anesthetist from the surgical suite to come and get it inserted."

"That's not a problem," he reassured me.  "I can prescribe some Valium for you to take before you come in that day."

"Listen, " I said. "They used to give me Ativan before my chemotherapy and my adrenalin was pumping so hard that it didn't even phase me."

He looked at me.  "I'll have you take some Valium before you go to bed, too," he amended.  "I'll even have them give you a whiff of........before they insert the IV.  We'll pull out all of our tricks."

"That's exactly what I need," I said.  "Hit me with everything you've got."

"Normally we only have the patient put under for the first operation," they told me, "but we think we'll recommend that you go under for the second surgery, too, hearing how anxious you are.  The numbing injections into the upper palate tend to be rather painful.  That way, you won't feel anything."

"You aren't going to get any argument from me," I agreed.

And the kicker is that this whole thing is going to be drawn out over a six-month period.  They do the first surgery to extract the tooth and then I have to wait three months for it to heal.  Then they go in again and insert a screw thing into my jaw and that has to heal for another three months.  Finally my dentist makes a tooth that is screwed onto the thingy that is implanted in my jaw.

Oh, but wait, there's more.  For my first surgery, they'll have to pack some bone graft stuff into my jaw and it comes from cadaver bones.  If I can remember my vocabulary correctly, we're talking dead people's bones.  Oy!  They also will be doing a "sinus lift" or something like that.  I have a very enlarged sinus cavity and they don't want it to droop down when they pull out the tooth.  I should have asked them to throw in a facelift while they're at it.

I guess I shouldn't be complaining.  While I'm worrying over one tooth coming out, little Spud is working on getting a whole set of teeth to come IN.  Little guy, don't be in such a hurry.  At some point in your life, those teeth are going to turn on you.  And THAT'S a real bite in the ......well, it's not a happy time.

Long in the Tooth?

Sometimes life just isn't fair.  Take today for instance.  I have faithfully practiced good dental hygiene all of my life.  I brush my teeth throughout the day.  I get my teeth cleaned every six months.  I even suffered through braces twice, donating a total of 8 teeth to the cause just to make room for everything because I've been cursed with such a tiny mouth.   And yet.....the darn things are letting me down.

I noticed last week that my gums were swollen above the biggest offender in my mouth.....the tooth that had given me all the trouble over the summer.  I had finally reneged and gone to the dentist when the aching had gotten really bad and they discovered I had a cracked tooth.  The dentist put a temporary fix over everything and told me it might hold for years or maybe just a few months.  Darn tooth!  Looks like this wasn't going to turn out to be a long-term fix.

So off I trundled today to the dentist----AGAIN!

"We're ready,"  the nurse said, sticking her head out into the reception area.

I looked around but seeing no one else in the waiting room, I couldn't find anyone else to palm off on her so I had no choice but to follow her down to the examining room.

To make a long story short, turns out bacteria has made its way into the crack and up into the root area and now I have an infection brewing in the tooth's roots.  My dentist was more than willing to go into greater detail but I told him I got the picture and I was feeling woozy.

Bottom line is that I need to get the tooth out and then pick from several options:
1.  Go for a partial plate. (NOT a good choice since I have a very prominent ridge in my upper mouth which would make it uncomfortable.)

2.  Go for a bridge.  (An "ok" choice but one he wouldn't recommend since it would involve filing down the healthy teeth on either side to make room for the fake tooth plus it would need to be anchored to those teeth.  It would be harder to keep clean and would involve several hours sitting with my mouth open while he works away on it (also not a good option given the exceptionally tiny size of my mouth - THANKS, Mom!)

3.  Get a tooth implant after the extraction.  (His recommended choice - the "gold standard", as he called it.  After seeing the price just from his end of things, I can see why "gold" is in the description.)

I mentioned that there was a fourth option.  Why not just pull the darn thing and leave a blank space?  OK, maybe not such a good idea.  He went on and on about how my teeth would start shifting until it sounded like the darn Continental Plates with some "Bucky Beaver" thrown in there for good measure.

We've reached a compromise.  I'm on antibiotics this week so I can attend my 3-day scrapbooking retreat this weekend and enjoy the food and festivities.  Next week I see the oral surgeon to set up my extraction and consult to get the ball rolling for the implant.  I told my dental crew that I have one stipulation or I'm NOT opening my mouth.  I want to have NO anxiety when they start this thing.  That means they need to either shoot me up with drugs or give me pills to take before they begin working.  And if they mean to put an IV in my arm?  Uh-uh.....I have to be feeling no pain before they ever try to get that IV in.  As I told my dentist, my last tooth extraction was in college when I had my wisdom teeth out.  They gave me a shot and I felt nothing during the entire procedure.  I was awake the whole time, heard all the crunching, etc. and couldn't have cared less.  Surely they've got even better drugs now after all these years, right?  I want them! 'Nuff said!

Hie Thee Home, Typhoid Mary!

I can NOT believe this.  Earlier this month, I spent two and a half weeks sick with a viral respiratory thing that was making the rounds.  I actually considered myself lucky because I know some folks who were sick for a whole month with it.  While I was fighting it, I tried to stay home from social functions, church, meetings, etc.  I didn't want to spread it to someone else, if I could help it.  Well, guess what?  I was healthy for exactly one week before I was felled yet again by a head cold.  I can almost guarantee you where I got this, too.  I had been at a function about four days earlier where half of the people were sick with the same thing.  I remember thinking, "Jeepers, why aren't you guys at home?"

That got me to thinking that it might be a good time to take a cold (groan), hard look at cold germs, how they spread, what to do once they attack, and some preventative measures to avoid being felled by these pesky germs.  Here is some info I picked up while surfing the Web.  I can't vouch that it is 100% accurate but there seemed to be a general consensus on these across multiple sources.

Lifespan:  Did you know that cold germs can last up to six hours outside of your body?  SIX HOURS!  Cold germs seem to be spread mainly by physical contact with an infected person or surface versus flu germs which spread mainly through the air via means such as sneezing and coughing.

Defensive Game Plan:
1.  Avoid contact with people that are sick.  OK, this is hard to do.  But if you ARE around sick folks, try not to touch surfaces that they are touching.  DON'T shake hands with them.  Tell them you have leprosy.  Make something up!  It's your health you're protecting.  Be creative!

2.  Clean surfaces that tend to harbor germs.  This can be defensive or proactive but disinfect your kitchen counters, door knobs, and refrigerator handles.  Don't forget about the TV remotes!  Just think about the number of times your family touches those.  If one of you is sick, those germs are probably being passed back and forth while you change channels.

3.  Wash your hands frequently!  If you touch someone who is sick, wash your hands.  Touch something they've been touching?  Wash those hands.  If you are sick and blow your nose, throw away the tissue.  I tend to tuck used tissues back into my purse or up in my sleeve so I can use them again.  Wrong move!  I'm spreading germs.  Throw them away.  Incidentally, scientists are recommending that you wash with good old regular soap versus the antibacterial soap that you see everywhere these days.  They are worried that the bacteria that these soaps don't kill will evolve into resistant bacteria.  We don't need more of those, eh?

4.  If you have to sneeze, do so into your elbow or sleeve.  Forget Mom's old adage about covering your mouth if you have to cough or sneeze.  Then what are you doing with that dirty old hand?  Sure you are going to wash your hands but just how many of us get distracted or waylaid on our way to the sink?  Uh-huh!  Germ alert!  By coughing or sneezing into the crook of your elbow, you are much less likely to infect someone else by touch (unless they are REALLY touchy-feely).

5.  Try not to touch your eyes or nose if you're around someone who is sick.  This is probably a good habit to get into at any time.  One website I visited said that a nursing study reported that 98% of colds are caught through the eyes (and they didn't mean by looking at someone who was sick - they meant by you rubbing your eyes after contact with a sickie).

6.  Drink Plenty of Fluids - this is good to do at any time but supposedly it is even more important when you are sick.  It keeps you hydrated.  I don't know, maybe it drowns the germs or something.  They say that black or green tea is good as a preventative, too.  One cup a day should be helpful.  Tea is also a powerful anti-carcinogen.  That's enough to make me take a second look at it.

7.  Replace your toothbrush after an illness.  OK, how many of you do this?  I have to admit, I never do this.  Usually, I only replace my toothbrush ever six months, when I come back from the dentist with a new one.  I think I'm going to start having a bunch of toothbrushes on hand and follow this suggestion.  It actually makes sense.

8.  Exercise.  Say what?  According to Oprah's website, sedentary, post-menopausal women are twice as likely to catch a cold as those who exercise regularly.  Ouch!  I happen to fit into the former category.  Have to admit, though....I'm not feeling very enthused about exercising at the moment.

Bottom line?  Use some common sense.  I know many of you don't have the luxury of staying home from work more than a day or two.  If you have to go to work when you are ill, take cleaning wipes with you and use them, ok?  Don't spread the suffering.  And for Pete's sake, try to stay at home when you can.  We will ALL thank you!

Either "Pressure Me" or Beam Me Up

Image via WikipediaIt was just my luck that my semi-annual appointment with the allergist was today, right in the midst of my recovery from a sinus infection, ear infection, and bronchitis.  At least he had some fun things to look at.  Things were going well.  I'd suffered through the weigh-in (hate those) and breathed through the spirometer for the lung function test without passing out.  I DID sound like a car that needed a tune-up during that last test.  The nurse tried to reassure me by saying, "I think those noises were just your vocal chords."  Uh-huh!


The doctor came in and looked me over and assured me that my lungs were sounding better but my ears were still suspect.  He wanted to have the pressure checked in them and then reassess my treatment.  OK.

Image by DdR` via Flickr
Soon the nurse entered with a portable tympanometer.  It wasn't like the one pictured at the right.  It was a portable device and it looked like a stun gun from a Star Trek episode.  She also brought two other nurses to observe her do the test.  I must have looked a little startled because she assured me that she wasn't going to "shoot me."

"Hey, I was more worried that you might be planning to transport me to the next galaxy with that thing," I laughed.

After much fiddling around trying to get the correct test to show up on the little screen, she put it in my good ear and pushed a button.  I felt a little vibration but that was it.

"Oh, oh....that's not right," she said to the other nurses.
Now since the last time I heard those words I was laying on a slab in the middle of a bone scan after being diagnosed with breast cancer and the jokers who said it were clustered around a screen,  I'm a mite touchy about medical people saying things like that near me.  Turns out in the bone scan case, the technicians were talking about a faulty piece of equipment but they neglected to tell me that until after they'd scared the bejeebers out of me.

"Um, are we talking about the equipment or my hearing?" I asked.

"Oh, no, no, no....just the equipment.  It doesn't seem to be registering correctly," she assured me.

She tried it again....and again....and again.   By the time she had tried it 6 times in each ear, she gave up and went off to find the doctor.  I was starting to feel like heading off to the Outer Nebula might have been easier.

She came back in one more time.  "Could you get off the examining table and sit in a chair at my level," she asked.  "I think it might make a difference."

I did and it did and this time she got a successful reading.  Eureka!  I had fluid in BOTH ears.  Must have been all that coughing I've been doing that has moved the fluid from lungs to ears.

"Just keep on using all the medications your family doctor prescribed," my allergist advised.  "And use your nasal spray.  That should help with the ears."

Okey, dokey!  Beam me out, Scotty!  Mission accomplished.

Related articles

• What's the difference between bronchitis and a chest cold? (zocdoc.com)
• Getting to the Root of Ear Infections (everydayhealth.com)
• My ear is clogged. Should I get antibiotics? (cnn.com)