Tilted

This week has been a series of Quixotic moments.  Over and over again, I've donned my breastplate and helmet.  I've raised my sword.  So many windmills, so little time.

Where to begin?

I've been fighting a toothache for over a month.  I had a crown placed and it Just.Wasn't.Right.  Next I had trouble opening my mouth more than a centimeter between my front teeth.  (I didn't need to come from a head and neck surgery background to know this was all-kinds-of-not-good.)  Soon my cheek puffed up like one of these cartoon rodents that sings at Christmas. I called the dentist who took Xrays, reassured me, put me on antibiotics, etc, etc.  The swelling went down and I went on with my life which included running a 10K race in New Orleans the Saturday before Easter. (The tooth continued to feel Not.Quite.Right.)

I ran it at a 10:46 pace which was right at my goal of 1:06.  Super!  I felt good.  The race was a blast.  My son ran the same race and it was a fantastic experience to run in the same event.  We enjoyed red beans and rice, which is the perfect post race fuel.  I had a great time in New Orleans with the family there and before I knew it, the weekend was over and it was time to catch a flight home.

There was a little bit of a delay coming home because of weather in Houston and I heroically stepped in and made sure a woman got on board her flight to Argentina.  After it was all over, I realized that I raised enough of a commotion that there were only two possible outcomes:  She would make her flight.  I would get arrested.  Obviously, I didn't get arrested but it was a possibility that night.  I was entirely impractical in my demands that an international flight be stopped and locked doors be reopened.  How it happened, I'm not sure.  But it did.

Monday's workday was packed - super busy.  I kept pace but I was dragging on the inside.  I blamed it on flying, on running a race.  Exercise would help.  I took a long walk at lunch.  Instead of putting my feet up and resting, I would push my body.  Idealistic, much?

A family emergency occurred Wednesday and my response was to pack my bags, don my armor and charge down the highway.  I had no clear enemy.  There was no enemy and I had no idea who I was going to fight - or save.  I lowered my sword and put my weapons away, along with my ego.  (My ego is my mightiest enemy.)

Thursday I was experiencing sadness and my physical sensation of tiredness was verging on fatigue.  Another busy clinic day loomed in front of me.  My alarm was set for 4:45 (WTH?) so that I could get up and run.  That would help, right?  No.  I slept through the alarm.  But I ran after clinic.   3.07 miles at a 10:57 pace.  I felt good.  I felt sweaty, and cleansed.  It was just what I needed.  I went for dinner and a margarita with a friend that evening and crashed into bed.

And I woke with:  A swollen cheek and obvious signs of a dental abscess.

Yesterday I went through stage 1 of a root canal and - wait for it...

...an incision and drainage of the inside of my left cheek. 

I was offered nitrous but would Don Quixote take that?  Hell, no!

I was fine until the endodontist asked for the scalpel and that's when all my memories of ME holding a scalpel and working on the inside of other peoples' mouths came back to me.  OK.  One tear.  That's what I allowed myself.  That wouldn't rust my shield.

This morning I Googled, "Can I run with an active infection?"

I could.  I'm not going to.  I'm sitting here and writing this instead.  I'm going to take a nice hot bath and there is a Corvette show out on the plaza.  I'm going to enjoy the warm weather and sip on an iced coffee.  (Thanks, Liz and Joe, for that coffee card.  I love the gift!) 

Oh, one more thing.  I don't think Joe Darion would mind my paraphrase because there are hearts hurting and they know who they are:  I love you more than there are windmills in La Mancha.  The impossible dream is worth dreaming.  We just have to take care of ourselves while we dream it and as weary as our arms may be from reaching, we keep trying.  There will always be room for us - for you.   I love you.





©Michelle Scofield, Feb 6, 2013 All Rights Reserved