It started out fairly innocuous. Woke up about 5:50 and popped a couple of acetaminophens in my mouth. I don't know what it is about 5:50 a.m. but I seem to wake up at that time a lot lately. I managed to go back to sleep and finally got up about 8:00. Did my usual--slowly and stiffly get to the bathroom, slowly and stiffly get to the kitchen and mix and drink my Gramma breakfast (Citrucel and mineral oil mixed with water), slowly and stiffly make it down to my computer chair where I ensconce myself for the next several hours while I unstiffen and drink the coffe that my husband so kindly leaves me every morning, sit there and start thinking about needing some breakfast about 10:00, work my way back to the kitchen where I eat something of substance, and then on this day I have to get ready for a dentist appointment scheduled for noon. Thankfully, I was just going for teeth cleaning.

Off to the dentist. Bill sacrificed his comfort for mine by swapping cars with me. My 1991 Honda doesn't have air conditioning; his 2004 Honda does. I have to drive 25 minutes to Fairfield; he has to drive 10 minutes to work. The temperature outside was supposed to soar to the 90's. So, I got to the dentist's office on time and was ushered to a chair as soon as I signed in. There was that usual awkward moment when I had to confess that I had now acquired Stage IV cancer and needed to add that to my records, and to make a note of the addition of another medicine because of it. She was sympathetic and I reassured her that I had a good frame of mind about it, explained that the pill I was taking was in place of chemotherapy and radiation, and that the oncologist said I had many, many years left in me. And the teeth cleaning began. The left side went well. Then on the right side she noticed a 'pimple' as she called it. Yeh, I knew it was there. I had been having that 'pimple' show up off and on over several years now. I would pop it and there would be no blood or funny taste and life would just go on. She said she wanted to take an x-ray of the area. Then she finished up the rest of the teeth cleaning.

The dentist came in like usual and looked at my records. He made no mention of my new condition which made me wonder if he actually saw it on the papers he was looking at. He started feeling around the 'pimple', then tapped on the tooth under it and asked if it felt tender. No, it didn't. "Well," he says, "you have an abscess there. That's why you have that fistula." That's what the aforementioned 'pimple' was really called. "The infection has found a way out, hence the fistula." Yes, I know all about fistulas. I was blown away by the fact that I had an abscessed tooth and I hadn't known it. Then the trouble came because he wasn't clear about what he was suggesting I should do about it. He mentioned that he usually does a root canal or that he has to pull the tooth. Okay, I've lived with it for years. "Are you saying, I should just wait and see if it starts acting up?" He didn't like that question. He sat down, crossed his legs and arms, and proceeded to say, "If come December 24, this tooth starts to hurt, don't call me. If some Sunday, the tooth starts to hurt, don't call me. You know you have this and if you don't get it taken care of, well, when you do start to have a problem with it just don't expect me to come in on my day off to fix it. It's not that I don't care about you, it's just that you could do something about it when it's more convenient for me."

At the moment, I felt that I was having too much else to deal with--back pain, chest muscle pain, neck pain, sciatic nerve pain, knee pain (all of which I have been going to a chiropractor for lately) so I didn't instantly say, "Sign me up for it." I just looked at him trying to comprehend the situation. Finally, he said, "Well, I'll give you some time to think about it." Okay, that worked for me. And now that's all I can think about, ugh. He left and it was time for me to stand up. Oh, oh, Hueston, we had a problem. I could stand but I couldn't walk. The sciatic nerve had struck again. The dentist's chair is slightly reclined but I guess it wasn't reclined enough for my nerve. And I didn't have my cane. I have a two-fold problem with the cane anyway. While it does help to ease the weight on the left leg, it hurts the right chest muscles to lean on the cane. Nothing is ever easy for me, I'll tell ya. At least not in the health department. Ibuprofen or aspirin helps the inflammation of the arthritis better than acetaminophen but I can't take the tylenol-type stuff because I am also taking warfarin--a blood thinner. Jeez. One hand can't wash the other for me.

It took me awhile to get out of his office. I made the mistake of thinking that if I sat on the toilet for a few minutes that that would unkink my hip a little. Unfortunately, the toilet seat was too low for me and it took too long for me to lower myself down on it. I dribbled on my shorts on the way down. Like I said, nothing is ever easy for me. Out of the bathroom, I tried to hurry through the dentist checkout process. Unfortunately, they had scheduled me again for a Tuesday at noon six months away. I needed it changed to another day. I didn't know if my dribble was noticeable or not (actually it wasn't a dribble, it was the size of a bowling ball) but at that point I really didn't care anymore. I slowly and stiffly walked out to the car. That took awhile. I managed to find a plastic bag to sit on so the wetness wouldn't get on the car seat. And then I drove myself over to my daughter's house. I had told her I was coming over after my appointment.

First thing in the door, I told her I needed her stiff dining room chair to sit on and a plastic bag. She complied and as I was telling her what had happened I stepped into another problem. She just wasn't in the mood to listen. She had Mario Party all set up to play and proceeded into it. I wanted to sit and talk for a little bit before we occupied ourselves with a Nintendo game. What I didn't know is that she wanted to get her mind off her troubles. She and Todd were not having a good day. Finally, I went ahead with the game but I stewed for half an hour and wouldn't talk. After the game was over, I didn't want to stay any longer plus I was feeling really hungry. Amy would have fed me something if I had asked but I wasn't in the mood to stick around. My feelings of hurt and anger had finally come down and I was talking to her again. We both apologized a bit. Before I could leave she had to give me Kip's girlfriend's address so I could mail her cellphone to her. Emily had left it when she and Kip had been there for the weekend.

I was near the local White Castle and that sounded totally delicious so that's where I went for a quick stop for lunch.

So, last stop on the way home was at the post office. My pants had dried enough not to be noticeable. You know how when you pull into the parking lot of the post office and get the car parked it seems like everyone starts walking real fast to beat you to the door? No? Well, look around next time and see if you don't get that hurried feeling from everyone going in there. Gotta get in line first, know what I mean? I got out of my car nice and easy and decided to not worry about trying to beat anyone to the door. I walked in the door nice and easy and by this time there was this 40-something woman following me. I was walking slow but I've got this sore hip, remember, and my arthritic knees needed to adjust to walking again after being in a sitting position. There is a long table between where the postal service counter is and where the people line up to wait their turn at the windows. You can use that table to get your mail ready to post. I was shuffling along past the table when all of a sudden the woman behind me scoots around me and gets in front of me. Boy, how rude, I thought to myself but then couldn't help but start voicing what I was thinking.

"Yeh, that's right, hurry up and get ahead of me," I started muttering loudly, "It doesn't matter that I was in here before you were. I'm walking slow but I can't help that so, yeh, just go on ahead of me."

She stopped at the place where the line starts and looked around at me, I guess to see if I really was talking to her. She licked her envelope and sealed it and then gave me her reason for pushing ahead, "I'm on a quick lunch break." Oh, okay, so that's gives you license to be rude. Yeh, I guess it does. If she would have just asked me nicely if she could go ahead of me that would have been okay with me. I would have let her. I'm a nice person like that. But she didn't. So, I decided to be just as rude back. The next thing that came out of my mouth was this.

"Well, I have to poop real bad."

She looked back at me. I was still a third of the way from the where the line starts. She looked a little flustered and it was clear that she really didn't know what to say to that. Something like, "Oh...well...uhm...," came out of her mouth. Then she said, "Well, there's no clerks in sight at all to help anyone anyway." And she decided to leave the line. She scurried around the other side of the table and was out of sight by the time I got to the head of the line. Maybe she was afraid I was going to poop on her. Ha. She probably went to the automated machine out in the lobby. All the time, I was laughing with glee inside. Damn, that felt so good to just let it out instead of growling to myself about how rude some people are. I had an enjoyable time with my transaction with the postal clerk and I was able to finally head home.