We have a "wellness" program going on at church but before it was birthed I knew I needed to get a grasp on my own wellness - starting with the physical. This week brought a visit to my regular dentist as a follow up to discovering an bump inside my mouth and the consequential week of antibiotics which meant no wine. The bump hadn't gone down enough to make him happy (is that what this was about?)so he arranged to send me packing to a pal of his two blocks away.
Since I couldn't get in to see this new guy, whose name turns out to be Dr. Hurt - could I make this up? - until today, I chose yesterday to go from the dentist to the lab and have the overdue blood drawn for a regular review of whatever they look at when blood is being checked.
I haven't ever, no ever, done a regular review of my blood because I hate needles and it's always optional. This was a self-administered big-girl challenge. Just drop in and get blood drawn - ha! Funny thing was I asked if they'd type my blood as I haven't a clue about that either. That question came out AFTER I explained I'm a fainting wimp. The receptionist informed me that if the doctor ordered blood type they'd do it but only then so the way to get it is to go donate blood. ARE YOU KIDDING? I explained to her that I am more trouble than it is worth and I would live without knowing my blood type at this point.
Amazing, isn't it? What's even better is that I did ask to lay down for this traumatic experience. Nothing hurt. Nothing. All those years of queasiness, nearly throwing up at the sight of a needle, running from the doctor...did that as a CHILD...over. The tech was excellent. I almost broke into my nurse practitioner's office to tell her what and how I did and ask for a sucker. Instead I went out and walked 3 dogs a mile each at the shelter.
Move on to today. I'm seeing Dr. Hurt on the 13th. Even though it's not Friday I'm not happy about this. We meet. He has the advantage as I'm already in the chair and he's hovering. He looks at the xray; he looks in my mouth; he confirms what I know.
Then he explains I should have "root canal therapy" - WHAT? Therapy. How about "a root canal"? Squirm, I did...offer delays and excuses, I did. Clearly not any good enough for he could not be budged so I said, "OK. Go for it." I'm all about the "never did this before" experience.
He loaded my mouth with appliances and started engines which made noises to drive dogs wild. He was handed cotton pallets, tools of varying sizes that were then flung over his shoulder. I peeked a couple of times when I smelled fire. The smoke coming from my mouth made me close my eyes. He scraped. He carried on face to face conversations with his parents who stopped by because his mom hurt her finger. He pushed. He pounded. He must have done a lot of things I couldn't describe here. He finished. He told me to follow up with my regular dentist and get a crown put on the tooth ASAP.
It is 7 hours later and there hasn't been a sign of soreness or pain other than in the checkbook. Hmmm. Later this week is the mammogram (now there's a test I can take easily enough). I think I'll give myself gold stars on the physical part of the wellness chart for this week.
How will I ever fit in the spiritual, social, vocational aspects of this wellness program? But, I am catching UP and that is what 2009 is for me!