The time has come for me to dance with the devil in the pale moonlight.
Oh, wait. I already did that. (He stepped on my toes and had halitosis, by the way.)
No, actually the time has come for me to spend quality time with my dentist, and by “quality time” I of course mean “all of my money.” So that’s what I’ll be doing today, and I’m all kinds of excited.
Well, “excited” may be the wrong word. I am looking forward to not being in pain anymore. Might that happen? Hope springs eternal. As long as it’s not on the left side of my jaw, that is.
I’ve know for years and years that my dentist wanted to tackle my TMJ, but it wasn’t until my recent difficulties that I became willing to succumb. Which should tell you how miserable I am, right there.
So. You name it, I’ve got it. I grind my teeth at night. I’ve had mild TMJ for years, and starting a few months ago I’ve been experiencing mild-to-moderate jaw inflammation, which dovetails nicely with the near-constant headaches I’ve been having. My jaw is trying to kill me, in other words.
In the meantime, I am tired and irritable, and I was starting to think that was just my personality, but now I’m thinking HEY, possibly chronic pain does that to a person, and without said pain it’s conceivable that I’m still a pleasant human. LET’S FIND OUT!
This morning I’m off to spend 90 minutes at the dentist being examined and measured and molded and fitted for a new bite guard. Which—natch!—is not covered by insurance. (Hey, kids! Guess what everyone’s getting for Christmas this year! A CUSTOM BITE GUARD! Hooray! Only, I get to wear it. You all just get to admire it. Who wants to sing some Christmas carols?) I am pretty grumpy about the whole thing, but I am also really, really tired of having stabbing pain down the side of my face. So.
Meanwhile, in other God-I-am-just-so-aggravated-with-life news:
1) My children’s pediatrician is only giving flu shots between 9-11, three days a week. I am aggravated that I’m expected to remove my kids from school to get their shots. I am SO aggravated that I am willing to take them to a walk-in somewhere else, instead, and pay out of pocket. Only every place I’ve called so far is only doing 13+, which means the kids are out of luck. When I take them for their shots, I will bring a “Please excuse my child for his/her tardiness, but the pediatrician is stupid” note along to school, after.
2) We recently had a lovely IEP meeting, but a comment submitted by the school music teacher made it clear to me that she’s one of those “Asperger’s is just an overindulgent helicopter parent’s excuse for a bratty kid” types, which made me both angry and sad, because Monkey loves music and she clearly can’t stand him. GAH.
3) In further school hilarity, Chickadee had a substitute teacher yesterday who informed the class that she’d be keeping an eye on the Blacks and Mexicans because “they weren’t raised right.” She also gestured to a group of white kids and explained that they were done with the assignment already and she knew that “the rest of you aren’t as smart and will need longer” but they should “try harder.” You can imagine what a fun dinner we enjoyed as she related THAT story! I managed to stop sputtering long enough to mail the principal, finally, but GOOD LORD PEOPLE. Welcome to 2010. Ignorance and hatred has been out of style for quite a while, consider some alternatives.
4) I am really, REALLY REALLY REALLY weary of taking the high road when it comes to the supposed co-parenting relationship I have with my children’s father. Bone weary. Jaw-grindingly weary. Handy PSA: Karma is a bitch, and you belittle your child’s other parent at the peril of your own relationship. Call me when the children are no longer children and lemme know how that worked out for you, mmkay?
But on the other hand:
This morning I gave Chickadee a cup of half-milk-half-coffee (lightly sweetened) and she downed it and then GOT READY ON TIME. (Did you hear the angels singing? That was why.) When I asked her how she felt, she said, “Fine, why?”
I pressed on with, “I was just wondering if you felt any different after the coffee.”
She thought about it for a moment. “I do kind of feel more awake,” she said. Then, after another moment of thought: “It’s entirely possible that’s psychosomatic, though, right?”
I laughed and told her maybe so, but I’ll take it. Still, fingers crossed that the novelty doesn’t wear off.