I’ve got nothin’

There’s nothing left in the tank.

Much has gone on but I can’t find the words to tell it – I wrote a post yesterday about my health and even I was bored. Drugs meant to be helping making things worse but still needing what those drugs do to make me well. Meds for the head, the thyroid and insulin resistance don’t seem to really like each other. This last week I have been consumed with drug side-effects that leave me simultaneously jittery, on-edge and racing while so exhausted I fear I may fall down.

We’ve stopped one of the meds to see if it helps, but it’s the one that deals with my blood sugars and they need to be stable not just so I don’t develop diabetes but for mood stability. So I need to lose weight and lose at least 5kgs fast. Yeah, like I haven’t been trying to do that for forever. Starvation September is underway.

This week has been hellish. Oscar had a molar removed under a general on Tuesday and only today voluntarily opened his mouth to talk. Eating is still not on the cards and drinking water is still a battle. He’s been home all week. Just sitting on the lounge. Mute.

Can you imagine being in pain or just being traumatised and scared and not being able to tell someone, to explain exactly where the pain is, what sort of pain it is, when it’s worse, when it’s bearable?

I’m now worried he’s got a dry socket – there was moderate improvement today when he ate a weetbix with some stewed apple and told me it didn’t hurt – when tonight he had one spoonful of custard I’d made him and grimaced and asked to go to the hospital.

This morning we had his arranged-a-lifetime-ago endocrinologist appointment. Yeah. Awesome timing. It was fine – just a chat but – of course – the need for more bloodwork.

It seemed like the cruellest trick of all but I made the call. He hadn’t eaten or had anything to drink. We were at the hospital. With its own blood collectors. We were there. So bloods were done.

Can you tell my head and heart are so weary?

 

Onward.

Open wide

I have quite the dentist phobia. When I was a child our dentist was a man who looked remarkably like John  Howard which probably explains a lot. He was mean and intolerant of children who were nervous of the dentist so naturally I found the perfect opportunity to vomit all over him. Sure, the whole reclining nature of visiting the dentist meant I covered myself in vomit but it was so worth it. What? I have a very sensitive gag reflex.

These days the phobia operates on a number of levels:

– it is NEVER ‘just  a clean’

– the drilling

– the needle in the gum hurts like a BITCH and never works

– the drilling

– Dentist Condescension – you know, where they tell you how to brush and that you should floss and use a flouride mouthwash – in THAT voice which says, ‘yes, I really do think you are an idiot’.

 

In the midst of the last few weeks both Jasper and Grover developed toothache.

Both have had to have a molar pulled. Grover has an abscess.

I’ve made Chef deal with it.

Then last week my lower jaw on the left hand side started to ache. A lot.

It was unavoidable.

We thought it was because I’m clenching and grinding my teeth.

That – of course – was just a part of it.

There was – of course – the pesky issue of the two back teeth on the lower left in my mouth that had been broken for years a while.

In fixing them he found decay going into the root of one of them.

Of course he did.

So on Thursday I had a root canal and now have the ultimate Mood Killer Mouthguard as part of my nightwear.

On Tuesday I get to take Oscar in for day surgery for dental work.

 

Not enough drugs people, not enough drugs.

 

Onward.