Another early post.
I cannot say for sure I will be able to do much more than crawl into my bed, curled up and feel sorry for myself, later tonight.
All day long I have had periods of forgetfulness, when I don't remember whats coming up tonight in eighty five short minutes. And life is fine, for those short, sweet moments.
When I do remember whats coming, I start to panic. I have some issues with panic attacks, and in most cases, counting out my breathing, and tapping my feet helps me deal with them.
Today, nothing has helped.
Because I know that tonight I am going to the dentist. Seven PM. To have a tooth pulled.
I had panic attacks today that have left me light headed and nauseated. I have had the ones where I shake uncontrollably. And of course, I'm extremely short tempered because of the fear.
Oh fuck. The dentist. Seventy eight more minutes.
I have had "bad" teeth for as long as I can remember. I was never the kid who came home with a shiny tooth shaped sticker for no cavities. I was always the one being drilled and suctioned, and as I entered into adult hood, where going to the dentist became MY responsibility as opposed to my parents, I slacked off big time.
I'm definitely paying for that now.
Now I am on my road to dentures. My molars have gone too far to be saved without more time and money than I deem worthy.
In the next seven months I will have all of my back teeth removed, one or two at a time. Right after Christmas, if all goes according to plans, I will have the front teeth removed all at once.
I feel nauseous just thinking about it.
If I had to choose between life without coffee or going to the dentist, I would lose the coffee.
I'm very much afraid.
At least one good think has come from me and my teeth; My boys are addicted to brushing and flossing. They don't want to have teeth like me.
Sixty six minutes.