old lady and her old man
Just recently, I’ve decided I’m old. Not elderly, but definitely on a downward spiral to old age. Every photo I see of myself is a bit shocking. Holy crap, the fat rolls, the thin sagging skin, the deep wrinkles. What in the name of Botox is going on? My brain still thinks I look like I did when I was 25 and yet, the photos remind me so much of my Dead Uncle Chuck that I’m surprised it’s me and not him visiting from the grave.
A lot of things have changed not only physically, but mentally for me over the years. I used to be so brave and tough when it came to gory images, needles, getting shots. I would just look the other way, not panic, find something happy to think about and be done with it. But then something in me snapped. I think I’ve been poked, prodded, cut and stitched too many times and my brain refuses to find a happy place anymore. Instead I get light headed, sweaty and just recently, oh gosh I wish I were kidding, but no, just recently….I start to get all teary and almost cry when things scare me. Yes, I’m an elderly person that acts like a toddler.
So now I’m the old lady that can’t handle the sight of many things including: giant holes in kids’ ears, needles going toward skin, sword fighting in movies that leads to cutting or stabbing and then stitching of skin, oh please, I do not want to see a needle and thread pulling skin together! Do you see a pattern here? Basically, I fear seeing skin being stretched or cut or poked. I didn’t used to be like this.
I never feared going to the dentist’s office either. I even had a cavity filled without getting numbed once. But now? Now, I am scared of the dentist.
About a month ago I finally went in to have my broken molar fixed. I’m glad I looked up that post because I thought it had been four or five years since I broke my tooth, but it’s only been three years, so I’m not as big of a procrastinator as I thought!
I also had an old filling with a cavity under it that had to be fixed located in the molar in front of the broken tooth, so I knew I was going to need to be numbed for the procedure. The problem is, I took zero time to mentally prepare myself for what was going to happen. My way of coping with having to get this done was to not think about it at all. And I was pretty sorry the minute I stepped into the office. I didn’t have to wait at all, the technician took me right back to a little room that will forever in my mind be known as Hell. And this is what the furniture in Hell looks like…
to be continued…