February 22, 2002 
This morning, I realized that the tooth I'm getting recrowned (providing it doesn't shatter into a million pieces and have to be pulled because it's already cracked) may need a root canal. My whole jaw aches. I thought at first because of the radiating nature of the pain, that it was a sore jaw from clenching all night long and an earache, which I get fairly frequently in winter. But this morning, I realized how much I was wincing when I was kissing Mike. Earaches don't hurt in your jaw. I'm going to be on so many drugs, that it's pissin' me off. Actos, advair, antibiotics, buproprion hydrochloride (wellbutrin) ...I'm working my way through the drug catalog alphabetically don't ya know. Next I'll be working up to my c's. I am not yet on antibiotics, but with the tooth messed up, I have to ask Dr. B to put me on them to protect me from an infection. Maybe that will be my C drug. *sigh* Also, I think I'm going to run out of dental insurance pretty soon here. I was told I could get a bitchin' finance plan, but I think I can get what I have to get done, done and wait on the two crowns. They're forcing my two teeth crooked, which while a pain in the ass doesn't constitute rotting in my mouth, like the 6 cavities I have. The two crowns could be done on the first of January next year and I'd live. And I got myself all worked up about whether or not the insurance would approve Russell's teeth pulled as an outpatient thing at the hospital and they will. I think I have to set up the anesthesia through the medical side of the insurance, but I think that Russ's dentist should be able to assist with that. I had visions of trying to keep him still in "twilight sleep" while they yanked 4 teeth out of the back of his mouth. Now, you understand why I've been clenching my teeth at night. Well, that and the thousands of dollars worth of dental work I need. Of course, after we get all this crap addressed, we shouldn't need anything but cleanings for a few years until Russell needs some serious braces. Okay, okay, so I'm avoiding what I'm worrying about...the scale. I did my walk this morning, to a large extent because I said I would and to a large extent so that I could feel good. I put the discman in my pocket and brought Etta James. I'm sure it must look pretty funny in white people suburbia to see a fat chick walking around lip syncing "I'll do anything thing that you want me to do....yeah...there aint nothing, baby, I wouldn't do for you." They're just lucky I didn't start shaking my luuuurve thang. But I'm off to wage war upon the scale in the doctor's office. I'm off to attempt to discuss rationally why it's possible I could have gained 21 lbs in a month on a 1500 calorie food plan and regular exercise. I am going knowing fully that there's a good chance I'll turn into a sobbing sack of diabetic goo before I'm done. I'm off to show off my sugars which haven't exceeded 147 for a month, although my fasting sugars are still above 100 most of the time, but had 7 under 100. Progress, baby! All be bock, as Arnold Schwarzenegger says. And now, the report from the doctor's office. He said,"My scale is broken and we're just going to ignore your weight for now." God bless 'im. I'm having to make changes to my asthma meds because we think that might be affecting my diabetes, which would explain why my sugars have been more tempermental of late. He said at those doses, cortisone gets into your bloodstream, and steroids and diabetes are bad juju. So I'm changing my asthma meds down, taking nose spray again, and keeping my actos the same. I feel frustrated by my body lately. I know I'm at that transition point between fertile mother and wise crone, but what a key transition place to be. I have all these things I have to make my body do before I hit menopause or I'll be in big doo-doo. I guess I feel as I near 40, I have a lot of physical catch-up to do. The walking feels wonderful. I've been noticing a huge difference in my energy level and my outlook as I progress. I'm having to walk farther to get in my half hour. Russell used to scamper ahead and run back to me and now he's trying to keep up. My thighs may be humping, but my heart is pumping, so I'll squeeze every bit of good out of that I can. Oh, a pun and a rhyme! My work here is done.
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