The second presidential debate is now history. I refused to watch it, because had I done so, my death would have been imminent. You see, I have no patience and intense short-fuse rage issues these days. The culprit is an abscessed “wisdom” tooth which has to be treated with antibiotics before the wretched thing can be pulled. Proximity to the brain, dontcha know.
Pain above the neck is acknowledged through a short, very direct route to the brain. Below the neck, it all has to go through the spinal chord. Make no mistake, if I stepped on a nail. I’d feel it immediately, but feeling the intensity can be slightly muted by distance, mere inches in some scenarios. As my layperson’s mind perceives it, it could be compared to booking a non stop flight versus one with a lengthy layover in Denver. There’s always a layover in Denver.
I finally got tired of burping up insane amounts of oral pain gels and faced my fears and went to my dentist, an occupation that has scared me since seeing The Marathon Man as a kid. The kindly dentist took X-rays which revealed I had a rather odd wisdom tooth that was quite infected. He knew it was painful. I confirmed that it was. I was quietly praying for a script of Fentanyl; he suggested Naproxen.
I have to wait three more days for it to be pulled. I’ve had a migraine, an earache, a sore throat and as mentioned, rage issues for the past week and a half. Chronic pain, which I’ve lived with daily since a car accident on 1991, can wear on your heart and soul. I was precribed an antibiotic which began working, but I only felt its defense forces for the first time this afternoon. It was only then that I had an appetite, could chew and be civil. It was the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to yell at those pesky kids to get off my lawn, even though I have no lawn and I live in a gated community. I’m the youngest homeowner here and I’m still south of 60. I can remember “Let’s Make A Deal” while my mostly senior neighbors can barely recall Roosevelt’s New Deal.
Age schism. And many of my neighbors are of the nosey, gossipy variety, who hate my dog’s entire elimination system. I responsible in that I pick up where he leaves off, but I’ve been written up in the past and for another pet owner’s lack of duty regarding dog doodie.
Pets are barely tolerated, but I’m afraid children aren’t allowed here. Of course, no where is that mentioned anywhere in the contract with the builder or in the HOA by-laws because well, it’s completely Illegal, but here, I get the sense it’s unspoken. If there are any local kids missing, authorities might want to check out some of my neighbors. I walked by one house recently and got a strong whif of gingerbread.
I’ll move soon, and rebuild and do as the late John Denver once warbled, come home to a place I’ve never been before. Like an old Etch-A-Sketch from my childhood, I’ll erase a good part of my past. Well, maybe not erase, but I’ll make the bad stuff of memories far less retrievable.
Here’s a tip for you: when God…the Universe….Putin tells you over and over again, your life and everything in it isn’t working, acknowledge it don’t ignore as I did, cut your losses and run, don’t walk to the nearest exit. Don’t sit there hoping things will change as you maintain the same currupted mindset that only served a purpose when climbing the ladder, not while stowing it away. Minding these no so subtle cues often means leaving what’s familiar, but not necessarily healthy. Taking it further, it also means excising certain people from your past, not because they’re bad, but because one or both of you have changed to the point nothing in the relationship is salvageable. These are people I once knew from my childhood, a million years ago, from cities large and small, a million miles away. Depending on perception, we were victims and/or the fortunate ones to be where we were, when we were. But nothing lasts, nothing is static. Many people remain loyal to things which they have every right to do, but these are things I can no longer believe in, creating a schism of a different kind.
I’ve recently spoken with some people in the psychiatric world about the changes I feel within and around me. I wanted to know if this need to separate who I am with who and what I was is normal, given all my circumstances. They each replied in their own ways, assuring me that shedding is perfectly normal and natural. Dogs do, it; as evidenced by the fur on everything in my house, cats do it and people do it. We shed dead skin cells to make way for newer, healthier ones. The White Coats say what really matters is what’s really about the intention behind the mental aspects of shedding. Makes sense, so I’ve thought about, lost sleep over it, allowed guilt to eat at my being and arrived at this point. It’s time to remove things, leave things, and think differently about things because for me, it was and continues to be in in my best interests to move forward and stop looking back. I had to remove myself from the things that hurt; which had become painful; which to due to impulse, neediness and bad choices, I allowed to become painful.
Not unlike my abscessed wisdom tooth.