Posts Tagged ‘ouch’


December 2, 2018

My poor mouth hurts.

I am in a lot of pain, but I know, from last years experience, that it will get better.

I had to get another crown put in.

I cracked, yet again, another tooth.

This is tooth number two.

My dentist told me that I am grinding my teeth in my sleep.


I’m not stressed, really.



So, two weeks ago I got a temporary crown.  What had been an appointment for a teeth cleaning became a three-hour session in the chair.

And cost a fat $1475.

Then today, two weeks later, I got my new crown in and dropped another freaking $465 to get a mouth guard because my dental insurance doesn’t cover mouth guards.

But I tell you what.

When my dentist says I need a mouth guard or I run the risk of cracking more teeth and having to get more crowns, I’ll fucking pay it out-of-pocket.

Happy birthday!

Merry Christmas!


Dental work.

Oh well.

At least I had the money in my account to just pay it out with cash and not freak out.

I wanted to sort of freak out, but I don’t have to.

I still have some student loan money left over to get through the rest of the semester and I will be alright.

I always am.

There was a time that dental work of this nature would have blown me out of the water, but I have a touch more experience with padding my bank account with my student loans.

I told a friend today what my student loans were at, around $104,000 and he blanched.  He’s also from country that doesn’t charge its citizens to go to school, so he’s not really accustomed to what it means to be an American with a great big heap of student loan debt.

I don’t care though.

My education is worth it and hey, I took out a big chunk to help with my move into my new place and I have no regrets about it.

I am interning at a non-profit and plan on working for them for the ten-year period that the federal government asks one to do if you want your student loans forgiven.

I can do that.

So it’s ok if I have them.

And yeah, they’ve helped with more than just paying tuition at my super expensive school.

I’m worth it and I still get to live in San Francisco.

So, there’s that.

I’m not on any pain killers for the tooth though and it feels big and hot and ouchy in my mouth.  If I remember correctly from last January it passed within a few days, the big pain by the next day, hopefully that will happen for me as well.

I expect that there will be some tenderness and hot cold sensitivity for a while, but it does pass too.

I will say I am not in the mood to do any homework and since my landlord is having a party I’m not really in the space to turn my attention and focus to homework.  I’m playing some pretty loud French music right now and trying to not think about my tooth.

I also did some apartment hunting on Craigslist.

I’m happy with my new place and not happy at the same time.

I had to move all of my things out of storage in the basement today, which I was not planning on having to do.  When I moved in the landlord offered me space in the basement to store stuff as my unit as no storage space, just a tiny closet that doesn’t fit all of my clothes, I got a big dresser and a rolling garment rack to deal with that.

But I don’t have anywhere to put my camping/Burning Man gear, nor the boxes of notebooks and text books I’m not currently using.  Fortunately my boss offered me space in her storage unit.  So tomorrow I get to get up way earlier than I was planning for on my one day off during the week to take my stuff across town to the Bayview to put in storage.

Two weeks ago I had asked my land lord that the basement be unlocked, I wanted to grab my Christmas ornaments a something to wear to the Burning Man ARTumnal event I went to a few weeks back.

It was at that time I was told that I was going to have to find another place to put my stuff as the landlord’s wife is pregnant and they are going to be renovating a room into a nursery and needing to store stuff in the basement.


I was floored.

I was also fucking pissed.  Where the hell was I going to put my stuff?


I hate to be a bitch.

But fuck my life, I moved in here partially because I was assured it was a really quiet space that I was going to be able to study and not be disturbed and all was going to be chill.

A new-born living over my head is not a quiet living environment.


Don’t get me wrong, I love kids, I adore babies, for fuck’s sake, I’m a nanny.


I’m a nanny, I deal with crying baby at work all the time, I don’t want to come home to crying baby.


I might be making too much of it but that coupled with a few other things, like the unit is not nearly as sound proof as I was lead to believe and that the landlord and his wife have had two knock down screaming fights with each other where things were smashed and doors slammed since I’ve moved in that makes me think I will be looking for a new place to live when my lease is up.

I’m not going to break the lease, unless something extraordinary gets dropped in my lap, but I do think I may not be making this quite the permanent place I had thought.

And really, not that permanent either, I wasn’t planning on being here longer than my PhD program.

I sort of figured that I wanted to get settled in and cozy and then not have to think about moving until I was finished with my program and by that time I would be making good money with my private practice and could afford a one bedroom instead of a studio, or even, maybe start looking at what it would take to land a house.

I really do have the  dream of owning my own home one day in San Francisco, crazy as that may seem, I have my hopes and I have seen stranger things happen.



A tooth ache and a loud party upstairs are not conducive to doing homework, but I thought, I can blog!

And there you have it.

I’m back to the blogging and my, it does feel fine and I just realized my tooth hasn’t hurt that much while I was writing.


The Lady Be Tired

June 12, 2014

I mean, all tuckered the fuck out.


It was just a shower.

But as a friend retorted when I tried, I tried to turn down the offer of a shower chair, because yo, I ain’t 64, I don’t need no shower chair, I was able to do it, take the shower that is, “ Oh, right! A shower balancing on one foot every seven days seems reasonable”.

It seemed reasonable until she put it that way.

Damn Gina.

I was joking that I needed a nap after the gymnastics.

Gymnastics that did not include shaving my legs.

I mean it was a challenge getting in and out, I cannot imagine how I was going to shave those bad girls.  Not that I didn’t want to, oh, I want to, so much so, but I got soapy and washed my hair and shaved my armpits, and that felt.


That felt good.


I sat on the sink to dry my hair.

Fortunately it’s a shelf unit, not a pedestal sink, and I am tall, I didn’t have to hop up on it, just sort of settle one hip into it and swing the broke back, not really broken, ankle over the edge.

It looks super gross.

I took a closer look at it since crying like a broken doll in the doctor’s office.

“Shh, shh, it’s going to be ok,” the nurse patted my knee, “let’s get you an apple juice, that always makes my patients feel better.”

What am I five?

But the nurse was right, the juice did make me feel better.

I was wishing for another box of juice when I took further inspection of the ankle this morning.

My goodness.

The nurse said, the bruising is yellow and green, that’s good, last stages of the bruise.

Yeah, on that part of the foot she was indicating to, the top part of my foot, it’s not even my ankle and it’s bruised up, yellowish-green, the ankle itself, though, is black and darkly purple, swollen not just on the part that sustained the worst part of the sprain, but also on the other side, it is gross, I am not posting photos anywhere.  I just can’t bring myself to do it.

I mean I document a lot of my life on this blog, but I am loath to go there.


I guess I am a little queasy about it.

I was happy though to get in the shower and glad I had gotten up an hour before the alarm was going off, I had set it early in anticipation of taking the shower.

I was to be whisked away from the homestead for a matinée this afternoon.

When was the last time I went to a matinée?

I was dating J.B. and it was oh gosh, seven years ago?

I don’t recall why I wasn’t working that day, it was a week day too, but I was not, and we went and watched the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe at the AMC Van Ness theater.


I had forgotten about that.

I was trying to think in the theater when the last time I had been to the movies was, it’s been awhile just for that and I am still drawing a blank, but I must have gone to one sometime in this past year.


I gave myself extra time and I used it all up.

Just doing the basic stuff is not so basic.

It takes five, six times longer, I get so tired so fast.

I have to sit down and once I am down I want to stay down.

But I got out and my friend was so lovely and sweet, she got me to the bank to deposit a work check from my one day a week gig on Thursdays that, since the accident happened on last Thursday, I had not had the opportunity to cash.

She got me groceries and toiletries and took me to the movies.

I cried in front of her twice and three times when she was in the stores and went to get us coffees.

It is so hard to accept gifts, help, humility, to not be fully self-sufficient, is such a challenge.

But I surrendered.

Frankly, I was just too tired not to.

“I will play this forward, I will,” I said out loud in the car, shifting my booted foot to offset the pressure and the pain of the ankle.

And I will.

And I just have to continue surrendering.

To the financial insecurity.

To the fear.

To the solutions that people put in front of me.

I took a few small actions toward that end today.

I contacted my student loan service and asked for a few months of forbearance on my loan until I am back on my feet.

I checked out the San Francisco Disability web site, but to be honest, I got overwhelmed and shut it down.

Then I said yes to a job, a tiny, teeny, ain’t gonna be much, $10/hr, oh sweet Jesus, yes, let me have seconds on the humility, pass the peas too (the frozen ones draped over my ankle will do just fine) to do some data entry.

But hey, it’s something and I am helping the person out and I know it and it’s what the place can pay me.

I wasn’t looking for the work, but when I was asked, it was mostly because they need a service person and well, he could see I am going to be laid up for a bit, I can do the service.

It’s a pittance and that’s ok.

The service is crucial to the place that is asking and I am willing to help out while I am on the down and out and I am sure there are more lessons to be learned from all of this.

I am being taken care of.

And tomorrow, who knows, maybe I’ll even get a shower chair.

I am no longer above accepting the help.

I would be an idiot not to.

I am many things, but I am not an idiot.




But not an idiot.

And underneath all of it, really, I do have faith.

There is a reason for this and there are great gifts to be had, if I will allow myself to accept them, that is.

I accept, gratefully.

I do.

Thank you, everyone, for helping me.

I couldn’t do it without out you.

Believe me, I have tried.

But there’s only so long I can balance on one foot.


I Was Trying Real Hard

June 11, 2014

I was trying so hard.

But I was shut the fuck down.

I am down and out for three more fucking weeks.

Pardon my French.

Fuckity fuck fuck fuck.

No working for three weeks.

No money.

And no, I don’t have benefits, thanks for asking, because I am an ass hat and didn’t bother to really get my shit together, really get some work underneath me that pays the bills in some kind of way, with like, you know.


I am almost done beating myself up.

When no one’s looking I pick up the whip and beat the living shit out of myself.

Oops, my friend just gave me shit.

I am getting to learn how to ask for help, again.

Oh, look at that, how cute she is, trying too go to fast again.

I got the old shut down and shut it down now.

Perchance I need to back up and start at the beginning.

Start at the doctor’s office, or even before that with the friends who dropped by for coffee and with coffee, the friend who picked me up and took me home, the friend who is here now in my little studio kitchen making me dinner while a bag of frozen peas sits across my ankle.

I am at least out of the splint.

But like going from the frying pan into the fire, I am not out of the woods yet.

That might be the worst mixing of metaphors I have ever done.

I can aspire, can’t I?


I got to Kaiser, French Campus, which I did not know that the department I wanted to go to, Podiatry, was actually behind the building I got dropped off at, so I had the delightful experience of wandering around lost for a little bit.

I made it on time, but out of breath and ran into a friend who was there for a consultation and we quietly commiserated in the waiting room with each other.

The nurse took off my splint and I immediately started crying.

She “there, there’d” me and got me a box of apple juice and said very sweetly that the bruising was not so bad, really, don’t fret, doctor will be in soon.

It looks disgusting.

Green, black, purple, swollen on both sides, some nice yellow streakiness in there too.


Doc came in, showed me the x-rays, said, no breaks, no fractures, yes, severe sprain, we are going to outfit you with a boot.

Cue tears.

A boot?

A walking boot to help facilitate eventual walking.


More tears.

Doc handed me a roll of padded gauze to dry my tears with, the box of tissues proved to be empty.

“You’ll be in the boot three weeks, maybe two, on crutches for another week or so, depends on how fast it heals, but I’m thinking three weeks in the boot, then slow transition to a shoe, and not the shoe you’re wearing now,” he said pointing to my abandoned Converse on the floor.

The nurse had taken off my right shoe while I was on the examination table so that the doctor could compare my two ankles.  She also said, “look how strong your legs are, you are lucky you are so strong, you should have broken it.”

“I’m going to give you a list of shoes to wear, and Converse are not on it,” the doctor continued, “plus I am going to give you exercises you can do in the boot, and once you are comfortable out of the boot, and I am going to recommend that you do physical therapy as well.”

“Your ankle won’t be fully healed for probably six months,” the doctor said.

Cue fresh tears.


“When will I be able to return to work?” I asked trying hard to swallow back my tears.

“Three weeks, maybe four, what do you do for a living?” The doctor sat scribbling something in my chart.

“I am a nanny,” I said.

“Oh, how old are the kids?”

I told him.

“Hmmm, three weeks probably, maybe sooner, but you’d still be wearing the boot, no running, obviously, you should be off the crutches by that point, three weeks, maybe four, depends on how you feel walking, you’ll know.”

Oh sweet jesus.

“You can claim disability,” he said.

I looked at him, tears flowing copiously down my face, gauze pad forgotten bunched up in my hand, “I don’t have an employment contract with the families, I work under the table and I don’t have any benefits,” I swallowed.

“I don’t know that I can claim disability,” I finished trying to catch my breath.

“Call the number on your paperwork and talk with the  counselor, you might be able to file for unemployment, it might take a while to get, but you should get something.”

The doctor patted my hand, “and you won’t have to have surgery, you take care of it and in a month we will check it over and I am nearly 100% that we can avoid a surgical repair.”


That is good news, in my heart, I know that is good news.

It is also challenging news, change my life news, surrender to what’s happening news.

I can’t do much about it.

I can’t go to work.

I can sit, like I am now, with my stupid ankle on a pile of pillows with a bag of frozen peas on it.

“You need to ice and elevate as much as possible,” said the doctor.

“And keep taking Motrin or Alieve for the swelling and pain, call me if you have any other questions, you’re going to be ok,” he smiled and patted my arm, “the nurse is going to come in and put you in the boot.”

He walked out the door.

The nurse walked in.

“Do you have a sock?”

I laughed.

I did indeed have socks in my bag.

Hello Kitty pink striped knee highs.

The nurse unrolled the sock over my toes, pulled them up, put my foot in the boot, showed me how to adjust the velcro and strapped me in.

The doctor came back, handed me my “walking papers” with all the various instructions, a booklet on at home ankle exercises and an admonition to take it easy.

Do I have a choice?

The only choice I have is to continue to continue to continue to surrender.


I mean.


What a wonderful experience I get to have.

Humiliations galore.


I mean humility.

Humility galore.

And love and forgiveness and more surrender.

Time to switch out the peas.

Excuse me while I go cry in my gauze pad.


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