Yesterday was one of those insidiously awful days when everything that could go against me certainly did. You’ve had days like that, I’m sure – when it seems the world is conspiring to defeat you and fate turns an angry eye upon you.
The details of my undoing yesterday are less important than their cumulative effect, yet I feel compelled to share them with you as would any good soldier describing the forces of battle. And sometimes, the relating of events helps diminish their importance, and I’m in hopes of shaking off yesterday’s miasma so I can move forward into today with fresh focus.
Thursday began with both dogs being sick in the house, certainly not a good omen, and putting them into the yard created new problems since the grass was incredibly wet (as well as freshly cut) so they returned soaking wet and covered in grass clippings.
The clean up efforts put me behind schedule, and so I skip breakfast because I’m running late for my dentist appointment, a routine visit which I’ve had to postpone several times. My hygenist barely says hello before she begins poking around my gums, calling out numbers in rapid fire to an assistant sitting out of my view. “Two, two, three, four, four, five, SIX (I perceive her shaking her head in a “tsk tsk” sort of way), four, four, three, five, five, SIX…”
Apparently, the borderline gingivitis we discussed at my last visit has now become full blown periodontal disease, and she recommends doing a “deep cleaning with scaling and root planing,” followed by injections of antibiotic. Before I can say anything, off she goes, saying breezily “just let me get a print out of the treatment plan so we can see what your insurance will cover.”
Three sheets of paper and a bottom line of $610 out of my pocket. Well, so much for my idea about going away for the weekend next month. And, since they could only do the top half of my mouth yesterday, now I have to go back next week, which disrupts my carefully planned schedule for “getting things done.”
“Oh, and no eating or drinking for an hour,” she tells me as I leave the office, the $300 credit card charge buring a hole in my pocket. I look at my watch – 12:00. My stomach rumbles angrily.
In my foolish efforts to be efficient and “get things done,” I’ve made another appointment for today – my annual gynecology check up which is scheduled for 2:00. I decide to go into my office, since it’s about halfway between the two destinations, and I end up spending the next hour there, being productive enough that I feel some vindication for the morning which went so badly out of control.
Leaving the office with time to spare (although not quite enough time for lunch) I drive to the physician’s office. I have a new gynecologist, a young woman in a new practice whom I met for the first time a couple of months ago when I had some worrisome symptoms arise. Luckily there was no waiting, and I was greeted warmly by staff and physician alike. We reviewed the results of some tests I had done on that previous visit, and I was able to report there had been no reoccurrence of the previous problems.
“It’s good you’re here,” she said. “Since you’ve not had any more symptoms, we can do an endometrial biopsy today, and that way we can make sure there’s nothing going on that the ultrasounds didn’t pick up. “
“What does that involve?” I ask, sensing danger.
“We just go right through the cervix with a brush about this long,” (holding her hands about a mile twelve inches apart).
By the time I leave the office, it’s 3:00, I’ve been rudely invaded on both ends of my body, and have had no food all day. People who know me will tell you that things get very ugly when I’m hungry.
I stopped for lunch, after which I felt better, well enough in fact to meander through the garden department of Home Depot and pick up some more plants for my burgeoning garden. After stops at the veterinarian’s to pick up some medication for the dogs and the library to drop off an audio book, I finally arrived at home (my safe haven!). I was quite stern with myself, too. I purposefully avoided the computer, the mail, and the telephone, poured myself a tall glass of water with lemon, and collapsed into my back porch chair, soaking in the restorative glow of afternoon sun.
There is a general unease about life lately. Perhaps it’s because we’ve experienced a death in the family, so I feel poised on a precipice of change. Certainly the situation in the world contributes to it, the news awash with economic calamity. I feel threatened, a bit paranoid even. I found myself thinking the events at the dentist’s office were (1) purely an attempt to gouge me for money; and/or (2) a way of punishing me for rescheduling my appointment three times and then being late. I’ve never been one to see the world as “out to get me,” and I don’t at all like the feeling of impending doom which seems to invade my thoughts more and more each day.
At any rate, I feel exposed and in a dangerous situation, a feeling that has invaded my emotional world with the same shocking vengenace my body was treated to yesterday.
I’d like to feel safe again, but I’m not sure how or when that will happen.
How about you? How have your days been going lately? How do you help yourself feel safe in a world gone mad?