Monday, January 29, 2018

pearly white observations

As I've probably written several times before, I've got a handful of posts in my draft folder that I've started to write, but just haven't finished.  Sometimes, I try to start writing after I tuck the kids in to bed - and will fall asleep while I'm typing.  No kidding, that's happened a lot.  More than 14 times from what I can tell in the past three months.  Those are actually funny posts and I should publish them, anyway.  But I'd need to add a tag like #HALFASLEEP  because there's no way to otherwise explain how a story could evolve from a serious topic such as dealing with a school bully to, "bright candlelight rainbows they taste really good with peanut butter." 

Huh?

Other times, I start to write something, but then question if I should be writing about that subject at all, because our kids are at an age where they are reading my blog and are easily embarrassed. As a devoted and caring parent, I wouldn't want to cause them unnecessary embarrassment. But then I remember that just about everything embarrasses our children - especially the teenaged ones - and I should publish those posts anyway, too, because in 30 years when they (God willing) are raising our teenage grandchildren, they might wonder how in the world their parents ever got through it.  Those are the posts I should tag #SAVORTHEMOMENTS and #WINEANDPRAYER.

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Then of course there are the posts that I start to write and are on topics or happenings that are very important to me, but they take some additional time to craft, and in that time - I feel like my time would be more wisely spent playing our rapidly-growing-children-who-will-be-moving-away-to-college-in-a-few-short-years an impromptu game of Connect Four.  Tag #GUILT.

Or, I'll be distracted by Charlie who will drop in and start reading to me the highlights of the daily news, and try as I might, I immediately lose all brainpower and momentum as I tumble down the rabbit hole of global and national news. Tag #NOWWHAT?

All this to say - as the children grow up, our days are becoming more compressed, and world events have my mind spinning out of control and it feels like more often than not, I've hit a writing wall.

Nay, life wall. 

Sometimes it's just so mentally hard.  And physically draining.  And I feel overwhelmed, out outnumbered, and anxious because time is going by in a blur.  And yet - there's nothing I'd like to do more than lose myself in a comedian's skit of current world events.  Or take a really long nap?!

But tonight, clap! clap!  I'm not writing to further dwell on any of that!

Tonight, I'm here to document things for posterity, including a minor oral surgery last week that went no good, horribly, terribly, very badly wrong.  As some quick backstory, it turns out that I'm an aggressive tooth brusher and have a problem with grinding my teeth while I sleep.  I'm sure my propensity to grind my teeth at night like a cow chewing its cud, might have something to do with our rapidly growing children, a very full schedule, and a worldwide political circus that at any moment, seems to be on the brink of total collapse and complete disaster.  Or glory.  Or who knows anymore?  It's all fake news. (Or is it?)  #STRESS. #2018. #JUSTBREATHE. #PASSTHETUMS.

Nonetheless, several years ago, I had to take Elizabeth in to the periodontist for a procedure on one of her teeth, which had a receding gum.  The dentist told me that I, too, had receding gums that required repair - but Elizabeth's was the more pressing of the two, and since I didn't want for BOTH of us to have periodontal surgery on the same day - and hers was purportedly worse than mine, I had her go first.  The fact that it's taken me nearly five years to have this procedure done for my own teeth, is undoubtedly due to me observing what my sweet child went through, which involved excising a piece of skin from the roof of her mouth, to graft on to her lower gums, I remember distinctly thinking, "OK that's barbaric. Perhaps I should have gone first because now there's NO WAY I'm doing it." 

So I didn't. But then my dentist kept asking when I was going to have it done because it's getting worse. And then we moved to a new state, and my new dentist said, "Whoa, you need to get this checked." And then continued to tell me every few months when I went in for a teeth cleaning, "Get it checked, Get it checked, You're in the Red Zone here - GET THIS CHECKED OUT or you'll be losing teeth!" and so I finally went to a periodontist that came highly recommended by a colleague.

I made my appointment and last year, had my first periodontal procedure - that involved yanking all of the gums around the base of my teeth, up over the exposed roots, and then stitching them in place. Kinda like putting rubber bands around your droopy knee socks.  While it wasn't pleasant, it sounded like a much better option than cutting out skin from the roof of my mouth.

Alas, the droopy knee sock fix didn't stick.  They drooped again, lower this time.  So this year, I went BACK to the periodontist and was informed that because of the root area that needs to be repaired, there isn't enough skin they can take from the roof of my mouth in one fell swoop, so instead, it was suggested that I use donor graft.  Donor graft that comes from a cadaver's posterior region.

The advantage of this procedure is that they can do a larger area of grafting at one time, which is good for someone like me that has a lot of area that needs to be covered.   The downside of this is that sometimes your body vehemently rejects the skin cells from another human being stitched in to your mouth and you wind up with a severe oral infection.  This is apparently very uncommon.  But wouldn't you know, that's exactly what happened to me because I'm often a magnet for the very uncommon.

My surgery was on Thursday afternoon. While I knew I'd be on a liquid / soft diet for the next week and there would be some discomfort, I fully expected I'd be feeling better by Friday.  But I wasn't.  

My doctor called to check on me Friday afternoon, and I told her that while I was in pain, I'd surely be feeling better and "only" be on Tylenol by Saturday.  When Saturday rolled around and I was desperate for my prescription 800 mg Ibuprofen every 5 hours, I didn't worry too much because the second day is often worse than the first for pain during recovery.  

By Saturday night, I was getting a little worried because even while on pain medication, the pain was radiating down my teeth to the base of my roots and the graft looked like it was turning white.  But maybe this was normal.  Scratch that.  Surely this was normal.  I tend to overreact sometimes.

Sunday morning found me awake at 4 AM desperately searching for my medicine.  We went to church and I prayed and lit a candle for the healing of my gums, and teeth because I'd really like to keep them and not wear dentures before the age of 50.  #NOPOLIDENTYET.  #PRETTYPLEASE.

The rest of the day Sunday went by in a blur because I succumbed to Henry's pleas and we watched the first episode of Stranger Things on Netflix. It was so good, we then binge watched the rest of Stranger Things and Eleven is now #1 in my book.  That's right.  We haven't watched more than 10 hours of television in the past three months - and this weekend, we watched 20 hours of televiion in two days.  #OHYESWEDID.

This morning I was up again at 4 AM hunting for my medicine, while thinking "this can't be right…"  When Charlie woke up, I had him snap off a picture of my gums, which I sent to the doctor with the inquiry, "Does this look OK to you?  Wondering if I just have a low threshold for pain, or is there a problem here?"  She immediately replied, "Oh no!  That's definitely not good!  Can you talk?"  

Long story short: the graft is severely infected and requires removal first thing tomorrow morning.  Until then, it is still in my mouth, stitched to my gum, has turned green and brown, and feels like it is on fire.  Ew.

My doctor has called in an additional antibiotic prescription that I started this afternoon, along with another prescription for some heavy duty pain killers which I've just ingested so should probably wrap this up quickly before I fall asleep and start writing about peanut butter.

One last comment:  Charlie is heading out of town on a business trip tomorrow immediately after my surgery, and I think it's a bit unnerving that I always go down the tubes, whenever he leaves town for a few days.  The last time he left me alone with the children (and puppy) for a week, I was diagnosed with Influenza A on Day 1.   This time, I'm going in for gum surgery and have been informed that I'll be jacked up on pain medication that could probably make an elephant drowsy.  

And yet I do not despair!  Because we are so incredibly fortunate to have an amazing network of support in the area. Several neighbors know what's going on - and have vowed to stay close for the next few days since I can't make important decisions like what to cook for dinner.   I'll also be unable to operate heavy machinery which at this juncture encompasses our refrigerator, dishwasher, and stove.  See, what a great opportunity for our children to step up and help!  

So in conclusion I'm so grateful for friends - and for kids who, when they chose to be, are awesome little people who have learned how to cook #QUESADILLAS and candlelight rainbow peanut butter.

That's my sign.

G'night and Godspeed!

Monday, January 08, 2018

The Amazing Trip of Summer 2017: Jenny Lake

Happy New Year!

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We hope that everyone had a magical holiday season and are looking to this new year as one filled with hope - promise - and an opportunity for wonderful life adventures.  One of my resolutions this year is that I will update my blog more than once a month.  But we'll see how that goes what with three teenagers and all. 

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At the risk of repeating myself for the umpteenth time: the impetus for us taking a one-month camping trip this past summer, is this fiery and simmering realization that our children are growing up so incredibly fast, as children are prone to do, and in such a short period of time - they'll be flying from our nest.  They're already stretching their little wings (much to my chagrin), and I know that our time with them to strengthen bonds and make incredible lifetime memories is finite. 

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Our vacation this summer - while extended - was not so long that we could lose ourselves for days at a time in one location. We had places to be and somewhat of a schedule to keep since I'd really outdone myself and actually pre-paid some of our campsites. 

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While in the Grand Tetons / Jackson Lake area, we did actually extend our stay for a night so that I could take the children to visit Jenny Lake. Which I may have mentioned once or twice, is where it is currently stated in my Will that I would like for my remains to be "sprinkled" upon my demise.   

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My first visit to Jenny Lake was in June of 1994, just a few weeks before Charlie and I were married.

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This is what I looked like way back then: 

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At that time, it was the most beautiful place that I'd ever visited.  Since then, I've visited a lot of other beautiful places in the world, but I still have a soft place in my heart for Jenny Lake seeing as my name is you know …. Jenny.  

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The children loved visiting this place and wasted no time peeling off their outer wear and jumping in to an absolutely FRIGID lake.  The water temperature was around 50 degrees.  Cold enough, that I couldn't even put my feet in, let alone my entire body … which made me reconsider being posthumously sprinkled here because I'm really partial to water temperatures 85 degrees and above.  

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We hiked a perimeter trail…

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Sat before a waterfall…

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Stood before an even bigger one…

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And talked to some lovely people from New Jersey who took pictures of us perched atop this granitic outcrop, before enjoying a picnic lunch.  

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We got caught in a sputtering rain storm and experienced temperatures that dropped 20 degrees in as many minutes.  It was cold enough that the children happily donned our emergency poncho and pretended they were the Three Headed Giant from Monty Python and The Holy Grail

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Following a really fun day together, we took the boat back to the other side of Jenny Lake - hiked to our car - and made it back to our campsite at Colter Bay just in time to attend a church service.  I've always considered nature to be my church, but it's an even more epic experience to actually attend an organized service in the middle of a National Park. This is some seriously holy stuff for me. 

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The kids had lamented going to church because there were so many other things to do - like pretend they were early explorers, or play Dungeons and Dragons, or a game of cards - but when we arrived at the amphitheater, we learned that a huge black bear had also decided to show up for church and had just been climbing over the amphitheater benches moments before I snapped this photo.  

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After much fanfare about a bear encounter, this was the first bear we'd really seen while outside of a vehicle - and the children's reaction was very similar to Brave Sir Robin with his chicken shield.  They bravely tucked their tails and ran, ran, RAN away.   Charlie had been on a coffee run, and missed the bear encounter, but was able to lure the kids back to the amphitheater with hot chocolate from Starbucks.  We then proceeded to sing songs, give abundant thanks, and meet some amazing people from all over North America.   

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That evening, we went out to dinner at the Jackson Lodge and met a group of horseback riders who had traveled up from Illinois.  They sat next to us during dinner at a funky little diner - and had all kinds of tips and tricks for us, once they heard our next destination was Yellowstone National Park. They told us all the great - off the beaten path - places to visit. 

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Neither Charlie nor I can remember their names right now, but this 60+ year old four-some were visiting the area with just their trucks - trailers - horses - and tents.  They would be packing in for ten days, with horses carrying their gear - and would literally live off the land for the duration of their visit, with very little supplementation.  Their gear included fishing rods, water filters, and SALT. 

Several times on this trip, we would meet people who would be amazed that we flew in from Texas, rented a car, and were making a nearly 3,000-mile loop with four children - while sleeping in tents the majority of the way.  But THEN, we'd meet people like our coast-to-coast bike-riding friend, Emily…

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Or the horseback riding folks from Illinois, and we'd become so inspired because people and their quest for adventure and that driving passion to get BACK TO NATURE is so, so awesome.  We were so at peace on this trip: it was simple and easy, and incredibly fun living. The way it should be. All The Time.  

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Yes children: You Are On Alert.

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This is just the beginning.