Life goes on, if you let it.

I've learned several important life lessons over the past few years.

The newest one: Don't finance something you don't want to think about every month.

I bought a car in 2009. I paid it off in a few years, and I was pretty proud to drive a car that was paid off. My intention was to drive that car into the ground.

But then I had a huge tooth problem. I fixed the same three teeth not once, not twice, but three times, at a cost of $17,000.

A $7,000 bridge failed, an infection ate my jaw bone, I cried, I met a cool oral surgeon in Wichita and I spent $10,000 on implants.

When this $17,000 disaster happened, I realized I had to give up a few things. I couldn't get a new car like I planned three years ago and all of my house projects stopped.

My world basically stopped until I paid off that dental work. I took out a loan and used my car, which had more than 157,000 miles on it, as collateral.

It was not an ideal situation. An oral surgeon had to take the teeth out, not a regular dentist, so the surgeon might as well do the bone grafts too while he's up there.

Don't get me wrong, I'm glad I invested that money in my mouth. Getting implants is one of the best decisions I've ever made.

But I hated making that loan payment. Every month, I went through a cycle where I got really, really mad. Every month I'd think about what I went through, how many doctors I went through and how many pointless surgeries I endured for teeth that I ended up losing anyway.

I lost teeth that had five root canals, two gum surgeries, two crowns, an extraction and a bridge.

All of that work, all of that money, all of that time and all of that pain was for absolutely no reason.

But life goes on, if you let it. That was a few years ago and that loan amount has been dwindling.

At my last dental appointment, my doctor told me that I have no cracked teeth, no infections, and no major problems. We could talk about tooth whitening if I wanted to, he told me.

I've come a long way.

All is well on the tooth front right now, they told me. They said I could relax and not worry about infection eating bone in my face again.

--

Penny and I have been driving past cars recently. I found one I liked in town, and it was the first time that I actually got out of my car and snooped around in Toyota's parking lot.

And then that car disappeared off the lot overnight.

They sold my car!

I decided that it was time for new wheels. It's time to get rid of the tooth loan and start making payments on a shiny new thing sitting in front of my house (because it doesn't fit in my garage, haha).

I hated getting pissed off every month when I made that payment that went towards my mouth.

(And before anyone lectures me: Yes, I realize I should have paid cash for all of this. But does anyone really expect a $7,000 worth of dental work to fail after a year? Does anyone really plan on spending $17,000 on three teeth? I don't feel bad about getting a loan for this because no one has that much money sitting around for teeth.)

It's just time to move on and quit thinking about teeth.

It's time for new wheels.

My little niece was the first person to ride in my new car. She's 5, and she's the best kid ever (along with her sisters.)

She decided that my new car is a rainbow car.

I'll take it.

I don't like doing this stuff on my own. I don't like buying cars or sales people and cell phone companies and window companies that knock on my door.

But I didn't really have a choice, so I (figuratively) gritted my teeth for a few hours at the dealership until the car was MINE!

As they handed me the keys and I was walking out the door, Ashley McBryde started playing on the radio. And no, I'm not lying about this.

It was a perfect end to the perfect saga in my life.

Not bad for a girl goin' nowhere.

Life is not always pretty.

I've been wondering if I should blog about the not so pretty side of life. I think I'm going to throw caution to the wind on this one and go for it. 

I took a picture in Omaha at the concert I went to. Two couples were acting affectionately towards each other, holding hands, kissing, and generally being touchy feely and grabby.

I blogged in the past about how I want a love like that. 

On this trip, I did not have a love like that. In fact, I had just watched someone walk out of my life.

After I took that picture in Omaha, I went to the bathroom and threw up. 

Life is not always pretty. 

---

I think me getting sick was a combination of things. I'm going to blame anxiety, a relationship ending, a sinus infection and a touch of the flu. All of those things hit me at once, and when I saw people around me kissing and being happy, I couldn't take it anymore. 

The funny thing is that at the concert, I knew I was going to get sick. I walked to the nearest bathrooms, and a guy told me the bathrooms were closed and that I'd have to go to another floor. 

Um, dude, have you ever tried to throw up on command before?

I rushed downstairs. I fell down the last few stairs. I made it to the bathroom in time, stood in line for a few minutes, and then did my thing. 

I ended up staying in Omaha an extra day because I was so sick I couldn't move.

(For the record, the only drink I had was a Pepsi.)

---

In that moment, I honestly did not believe that I'd ever be that girl at a concert that would be snuggling up next to someone. 

I've had that in the past. Will I have it again in the future?

I have no idea.

When my last relationship ended, I was okay with it. He didn't like to travel, so when I went to Oklahoma and was front row at a concert, I silently thanked him for dumping me. If he hadn't, I wouldn't have experienced that concert.

But this relationship was different. 

I thought to myself sitting at the concert that I'd much rather be doing absolutely nothing with him in Kansas...but that's not how life ended up. 

Instead, I drove through a winter storm by myself, went to two concerts by myself and fixed a broken headlight kind of by myself (I had some help with that one). 

I am perfectly capable of surviving and traveling on my own. 

But how much more alone can one person take?

---

One of the things I enjoyed the hell out of in Omaha was the fact that the crowd liked the break up songs the best. Specifically, they loved Over When It's Over and Record Year. 

(I swear I'm going to get a Record Year tattoo one of these days.)

I blogged about one of these songs in the past: Damn it baby, damn it.  I wrote that in 2016, after a relationship that I was in tanked. 

It drives me crazy that I'm pretty successful in life, but I have yet to be in a successful relationship. It drives me crazy that men start relationships with me and then decide one day they don't want me anymore. 

It drives me crazy that my opinion on the matter makes no difference. 

From my 2016 blog post: 

It wasn’t my choice. I didn’t even have a say in it.

Yeah it’s over

Yeah it’s over

And that’s probably the worst feeling in the world.

-----

From a 2015 blog post: Stay

I was thinking about this last night.

After my friends get married, a few months after the ceremony and reception, I always ask them how they knew they married the right person.

I'm single and prospecting, as one of my co-workers put it this morning (ha, ha). I ask my friends that question because I don't know the answer.

My oldest and best friend had my favorite answer. I remember that conversation like it happened yesterday.

We were sitting in a garage last summer, playing with dogs. I was talking about my personal life - which doesn't happen very often - and I remember specifically what she said to me on how she knew she picked the right person to marry.

"He stayed."

It's a simple answer.

All you have to do is find someone who will stay? I always thought there was some unknown magic trick to love (or something like that...).

It turns out that nope, there's no magic trick or formula.

All they have to do is stay.

Last summer, I thought that answer was bullshit. There has to be some way to know, I thought. 

I get it now. Staying is important.

One of the consequences and side effects of being human is finding a person who won't stay.

When I look at my married friends, how happy they are and how their spouses blend seamlessly into our group of friends, I have a little glimmer of hope.

Eventually, someone will stay.

Eventually.

---

I wish this blog post had a happy ending but it doesn't.

One day I was with someone and the next day I wasn't. 

One day I was planning concerts and road trips to take with him and then the next day he was no longer a part of my life.

How do you get over it? 

How long does the pain last?

"Don't touch me. I'm broken."

I have a hard time with dental appointments.

When I had a cleaning on Monday this week, the hygienist and dentist asked me if I knew I had a cracked tooth.

They started talking, and I started to lose it.

My dentist quickly realized this, and put her hand on my shoulder.

"It's just a crown," she said. "No implants or extractions or bone grafts or oral surgeons this time."

Oh. Just a crown? Not even a root canal to go along with that?

I can live with that.

I went back on Wednesday for my first crown appointment. When I sat down in the chair to look at the pretty view of the pond, I read a post-it note that was hanging from the blinds.

It said: "Don't touch me. I'm broken."

I sympathized with that post-it note, and I almost took it.

Don't worry, post-it note. I'm broken, too.

Literally, I'm broken...my tooth that I had fixed on Wednesday fell out of my mouth on Thursday.

Want to see it? It's pretty cute.

I get the permanent crown next week, so this little dude is just going to hang out with me in my office until then.

---

Comment from everyone at my dental office: "I forgot you have the world's tiniest mouth."

Thanks?

Thankful

It was standing room only in the Urgent Care Clinic yesterday afternoon.

I planned my trip accordingly. It opened at noon. I got there 20 minutes later.

I keep thinking of a saying that I'll remember for the rest of my life: Be thankful for what you have. You could have a lot less.

The two people in front of me, both with kids, were asked to pay a $50 co-pay. Both people walked out of the building without saying a word.

Their kids were sick and they didn't have $50 to have them seen.

Today, I'm thankful that I can go to the doctor when I don't feel good. I'm thankful that I can afford an emergency room bill five days after my health insurance deductible reset in the first week of January.

I'm thankful that I can go to the pharmacy and get medicine whenever I need to. I'm thankful that my pharmacist and his employees know me by name, and offer to deliver my medicine when I'm holed up sick in my house.

I'm thankful I have a house, albeit a little old (118 years old, to be exact) and a little drafty.

I'm thankful that my parents made me work for what I have since the day that I turned 16. I'm thankful that they taught me that I need to take care of myself, because you can't rely on anyone else to take care of you.

And for those wondering: No, I don't have the flu. I never did. Yes, I still have a cough, but no, I'm not contagious. No, I am not going to walk around and spread my illness around. You can't really give people double ear infections. If you piss me off, I might try, though.

Let's go find it.

For those who don't know, I've been sick with The Plague for approximately 97 days.

And by 97 days, I mean three weeks. 

To say that I feel bad is an understatement. Last week was an especially bad week.

I lost my voice completely.

I knew it was time to call a doctor, which is swell for people who have voices who are healthy enough to call doctors.

I sent my Mom a text message. Can I come over for you to make an appointment for me?

Duh, she said.

When I got to her house, I didn't want to try to talk, because I was scared that my Batman vs. Darth Vader voice would scare the crap out of three pretty cool little girls I know.

My favorite red-haired child, little L, who is almost 4,  came up to me at the kitchen table. Grandma told her that Aunt Monica lost her voice, and that Aunt Monica was going to the doctor for it.

Little L looked at me, the wheels in her brain turning.

"Monica, where's your voice? Where'd it go?"

Little L, Grandma explained. Aunt Monica is sick and she lost her voice.

Little L: "Monica, let's go find it! Let's find your voice!"

Little L, in her innocence, thought my voice was like a lost toy, something she could find if she concentrated hard enough.

And then I, with my Batman vs. Darth Vader voice, melted into a giant pile of goo.

This kid is the best. 



(By the way, I got my voice back and I'm working on the ear infection thing. How a grown ass adult gets a double ear infection for the first time in her 30s is something I'll never understand.)

Not lost on me

I wrote this last week. 

You don't have to tell me that dental infections can be bad. Deadly, even.

When I wake up in the morning, I remind myself to be thankful and grateful that I finally found a team of doctors who can fix my problems. 

They're a pretty great team. I like these new people a lot.

It means a lot to me to have people I just met stick up for me and work hard to fix my problems. I haven't had that in the past, and the importance of that is not lost on me.

--

I met doctor #18 today, a new physical therapist because #17 is on maternity leave.

I cancelled my first appointment with #18 because that was the week my tooth, mouth and life exploded.

I explained what happened to my tooth to my PT, because being on antibiotics and pain killers completely wrecked my digestive system. Like, all the progress I had made in that department of my life went down the toilet.

Doctor #18 looked at me after I explained the problem, and she told me the infection I had in my mouth could have gone to my heart.

"That oral surgeon just saved your life."

Today I ate a piece of humble pie. 

I am amazed at Wichita's health care. It's the best care I've ever had and I've loved all the doctors I've gone to there.

Thank you, Wichita, for saving my life.

x

Not going to happen

Found on Reddit: "Fun" and "going out" expenses are not going to happen for a while, because it just hit the fan.

Uh...

Society: You look great! How much weight have you lost? What's your exercise routine? What's your secret?

Me: Uh...

People, I have organ damage from my digestive issues, plus I didn't really eat food for a while because my face felt like it was on fire and trying to kill me.

New rule: Don't ever ask anyone about their weight.

You had a bad day.

Every so often, I have a bad colon day.

This is not the same as when I had a bad colon day last year.

Thanks to 17 doctors I've visited along the way, I can manage most of the symptoms by myself through the food that I eat.

Sometimes, like over the weekend, I get a little cocky. I hadn't felt pain in a good month or six weeks, and I decided that I was going to eat meat.

That crappy choice led me to my bed on Saturday afternoon, where I cried myself to sleep.

I know better than to eat meat. I know what it does to my body. I know that I will spend a day or so crying because the pain of my body digesting that food is so bad.

I cried myself to sleep and took a good 5-hour nap on Saturday afternoon. When I woke up, the pain was gone. I was not tired and I was ready to get on with my day and party...only the day was over, so my party ended up with with a grumble of Pugs at 2 a.m.

Whatever.

My new life motto: The only thing strong enough to kick my ass is my own ass.

Smiling and grateful.

This will be a short post, as I purposely haven't had my computer out at my house for a while now.

Taking a break from screen time is sometimes a good thing.

Here's my message for the day: I love my physical therapist.

She's the first person to actually sit me down and explain my problem to me. That spot on my side that I've been feeling pain in for more than a year?

It turns out there's a reason that spot hurts.

No way? Get out of here!

So many people told me that my problem was in my head that I kind of started to believe it. It's nice to finally have found the right doctor. I think I'm on the path towards eating like a normal human being...kind of.

Just don't make me eat red meat, because for the life of me, I can't.

Chicken and shrimp seem to be all right, as long as it's not fried.

A hamburger? Settle down, people. I'm not that brave or adventurous yet.

After eating what seems like 900 pounds of oatmeal in the past few weeks, I had a very, very not nice surprise when I tried eating salsa over the weekend.

I downed three cups of water at the restaurant. I am not used to spicy food.

MY MOUTH IS ON FIRE.

Anyway, back to physical therapy.

While all the other old ladies at my PT's office get the very young, very attractive male doctors, and while the old ladies bring their friends to meet their very young, very attractive male doctors, my PT is an adorable 9-months pregnant woman.

We talked about make-up for an hour last week.

Did I mention that I love her? Because I love her. I give her money, she listens to me and she helps me. She's also very nice to me.

I lucked out with doctor #17, folks. She's a keeper.

The past year of my life has not been fun, and I've encountered and fired many a doctor who didn't believe me or do much to help me.

There are doctors in the world who care about their jobs and will help you, though. And for that, I'm smiling and extremely grateful.

Serene.

I can't tell you if it's science or if it's mental gymnastics.

The only thing that I know is this: Ever since I got my salt lamp last week, I've slept amazing each night and I've woken up in a happy mood.

New doctor in Wichita had me pick up something at Bed, Bath and Beyond when I was there last week. Oh darn, she said. You'll probably have to shop at Really Cute Area while you're there.

Oh darn is right.

I've never really given that area of town much consideration or attention. When I lived in Big City, I lived on the other side of town.

But shopping in this area of Big City means I'll likely run into my brother's ex and not my own ex, so I consider that a major win for this side of town.

I think I just found a new favorite shopping area.

Anyway, this lamp was calling my name. I've wanted one for a long time, but I could never justify the expense. After dealing with my colon issues for so long, I decided that yes, I did deserve to buy myself something.

Think of it as a reward for having a complicated butt.

I think The Raven likes having a lamp on at night, too. Since I've had it, her blind(ish) Pug self has not gotten lost or cried for help in the middle of the night.

I'm sensitive to sounds and noises when I sleep. The condition has to be perfect and serene in order for me to actually get some shut eye. But this lamp doesn't bother me. Waking up to that orange light when the sun is starting to rise is a little glimmer of paradise in southwest Kansas.

Capeesh?

I had minor surgery a few months ago.

It was outpatient at a doctor's office. It was nothing to write home about. The most exciting thing that happened was the nurse's reaction to my Dad walking back to my room holding my purse.

When he went to go get the car, the nurse told me that I had a really good Dad.

I know, right?

Also, I woke up, drank some juice, and went shopping afterward.

Read: Nothing to write home about.

The worst part about it was the sniffles that the air thing up my nose gave me. (The air thing up my nose = correct medical terminology.)

I knew it would cost a butt load of money (someone with a malfunctioning colon loves making butt jokes), so I made a payment the day I had the procedure done.

That payment did not show up on a bill that landed in my mailbox recently.

If I've learned anything in the past year, it's that you can't always rely on doctor's offices to be right. Just because they say something doesn't mean it's true. Just because the receptionists say they did something doesn't mean they actually did it.

And just because they send you a bill doesn't mean that's what you actually owe.

I trust no one in life. It's one of my most endearing qualities about my awesome personality (sarcasm).

I called the doctor's office up. I was nice, as were they. Yo, I said. What's up with my payment not showing on my balance?

It turns out that the payment I made went towards the facility fee, not the doctor's bill for the procedure. I haven't gotten the facility fee bill yet. It's coming, the nice lady over the phone told me.

Because of course there's a bill coming to me that I didn't even know existed until now.

Yo, I said. That's great. You send me an updated bill that shows the money that I already paid you, and I'll send you the rest of the money.

Wam, bam, thank you ma'am, that problem got crossed off of my Stuff to Have Anxiety About list.

In the back of my mind, I'm thinking, you know, you get to charge me a facility fee for having minor surgery in your own practice? And then you charge me your time and talent on top of it?

I'm in the wrong profession, guys.

-

In case anyone is wondering, the surgeon I talked to last month recommended that I try physical therapy out first for my colon. Um, do I even want to know what that involves? I will find out this Friday during my first appointment. I'm going to whip this colon into shape!

Actually, I probably won't. Surgeon says there's a 20-40 percent chance PT will work.

Welcome to my life: Hey, you there. Yeah, you there with the colon problems. Go do something six to eight times and drive 300 miles each time for something that probably won't help you.

Capeesh?

-

Some people go through this and get diagnosed with colon cancer. I am thankful that did not happen to me, and I am thankful that I do not have colitis.

It's my blog, and I'll whine if I want.

-

I keep track of all my health appointments in a Word document. I've done that for a few years now. I have a dental one and I have a colon one. 

It's kind of fun to look back after the problem is fixed and realized what I went through.

My favorite lines from a Word document, which details my dental crisis...crises? crisises? Whatever the plural form of that word is:

• You know how they fish out a needle in your head? They stick more needles in your head.

• I think I deserve some kind of award for how many foreign objects are in my mouth. 

• One of these days I’m going to get good news at the dentist’s office. Today was not one of those days, but at least I didn’t cry about it this time.

•The assistant came in the room and noted that the tooth they worked on last time no longer exists in my head.

What happened, she asked?

I shrugged and said ‘I don’t know.’

What was I supposed to say? Up until two weeks ago, I thought it was your fault. Given enough time and a few bottles of wine, I could probably come up with an explanation, but right now we’ll just settle with the ‘I don’t know’ answer.

• I should have known, but I didn’t.

• And then it didn’t end. The floodgates opened up and the bad news just kept flowing and flowing and flowing.

To say that I hate this is an understatement. I loathe it. I would rather have my fingernails torn off and get chased by a pack of rapid dogs (small rabid dogs, but rabid nonetheless).

But you know what? Part of being an adult is dealing with your problems and not hiding in a corner and crying all day.

I’ve spent a lot of time fixing the problems. Well, technically I don’t really fix them; I just lay there, slobber all over myself, pay and then go back to work/life. Whatever.

The weekend I realized that this was nowhere near being over, I drove past the house I wanted to buy. The one that was $10,000 below my budget, with a huge giant backyard.

I drove past it and told it goodbye.

Someone once told me that you can have anything you want, you just can’t have everything you want. And you definitely can’t have it all at once.

Sigh.

There might have some tears involved. After I told the house goodbye, I went home, became friends with a couple bottles of wine and cried some more.

• All I want is a stupid popsicle, not your opinion.

These are all entries from a Word document on my computer titled Toothpocalypse from 2013 and 2014. It goes all the way to this year, but I don't have it in me to keep on reading what I wrote back then.

I know how it ends.

Anyway, I'm glad I kept track of my health problems back then. Going back and reading what I wrote is really funny now. 

(The only way it will ever be read by anyone else is if I die and someone gets ahold of my laptop.)

Years later, all I really want is in life is that stupid popsicle and not anyone's opinion. 

Some things never change.