A Continued Sigh
So, where was I. Ah yes, telling you all about my trip to the dentist.
I went to the dentist yesterday. I don’t like dentists. I’d go as far as saying I have a dental phobia (549,000 hits on Google – The top hit being http://www.dentalfearcentral.org/, which is a British site). I don’t like admitting to this fear because it makes me feel babyish. After all, what is there to be that afraid of, asks all the grown-ups surrounding me and the grown-up inside of me!
I had a horrible dentist growing up. She was a Bitch (and I don’t use that term lightly). It did not help that we were welfare cases; my worst experience as an adult also occurred when the dental office knew that welfare was paying for my treatment. And I mean worst in how my fears were handled. I was made to feel infantile and that my fears were totally unfounded.
They are not. The dentists I have been to have, for the most part, ignored my concerns, would not listen to my opinion on what pain I was feeling and rushed through my treatment. As soon as I was on my own, I stopped going to the dentist . One, because I could not afford it and two, because I did not trust the dental profession to have my interests at all in mind.
Which, of course, led to my only interactions with dentists being when pain necessitated a trip to their offices. Not a tactic I would recommend. I want to keep my teeth healthy which means regular trips to the dentist are required.
I thought I was there. After twenty years of not having a regular dentist I thought I had found one I could work with. She listened to my concerns. She didn’t push the cosmetic stuff (well, not too much). The office was close to work. Payment plans were possible. Then she moved across the city. I could tolerate the fact that she was now a bus ride away instead of within walking distance. 
However, I always needed work done whenever I saw her. A cavity here, a cap there, a tooth that I thought should have been pulled didn’t get pulled. Then she moved out of the city without informing me. Then my cap broke; the one she had just installed less than two years ago. Two months to get contact information for her and numerous letters and emails later I learnt that the only way to get the cap replaced was to travel to her new office a half day away. I have no car and I am not going to pile expense on top of expense to travel somewhere I shouldn’t have to. This is money I can’t afford to spend and I no longer trusted her judgment or care. This put me back to square one.
But like I said, my cap broke just around the same time as my dentist moved. So, I needed a new dentist. I got smarter; I asked around and found someone with a good reputation and ties to the community. I feel treated professionally at his office which is all I ask for.
But going to the dentist is never going to be a task that I enjoy. Remember the tooth I mentioned that should have been pulled by my last dentist. That’s what I got done yesterday because the root structure had split in the last six months or so and the tooth had to go before infection set in. So after a half hour + in the chair, a cut in my gums (thankfully no stitches were needed after), and a lot of tension, the tooth is gone! The experience has improved since I was young. The freezing is quicker and better and the freezing leaves quicker – which is nice. It wasn’t a painful process – just annoying and uncomfortable.
So the lesson in all this. Find a dentist you trust and work with them to ensure good proper dental health.
Thank you for reading my blog’s annual public service announcement (LOL).
Sigh
I just got back from the dentist. (Okay, I got back two hours ago.) Can’t think; Can’t write – will try again tomorrow!
Asking For It
I can’t ask for things. Objects, time, help. I was trained early to be ultra-independent, to rely on no one but myself. My father left before I turned two; my mother was left to raise four children, under the age of five, by herself. She couldn’t cope. It was the sixties so the medical community’s solution was happy pills. My father’s parents favourite grandchildren were not us and my mother’s parents held a grudge against my father, who I am named after.
Emotionally, no one ever gave me what I needed. So I learnt early not to ask. Instead I became the perfect child and made no demands. It is a hard habit to break.
Right now, I need bedroom blinds. My bedroom is too light, too early, now that it is Spring. My building manager has mentioned there are blinds available. I can’t get around to asking about them. Even simple questions like “what size are they”. Harder questions, like “how much would they cost” or “could the landlord put them up for me” are impossible to ask.
It would be easier to buy my own blinds and put them up myself. But the cost stops me, not knowing how to hang blinds stops me. But I’m tired of waking up too early and tired of being scared and indecisive. Tired of being independent.
I wish I knew how to do this. Intellectually, I do know how. You start small, you ask a small non-important question. You ask for a small favour. And you get what you want; what you need. Except I don’t think I will (ever) get what I want or what I need unless I do (get) it for myself.
And thus the self-fulfilling prophecy continues.
Tradition
Today is the end of the Easter weekend. One of those times that religion/christianity is constantly niggling at my subconscious. For me, it is a time of year ripe with tradition. (Hum Tradition from Fiddler on the Roof here. LOL)
Tradition according to the dictionary means a specific practice of long standing, or the handing down of beliefs, customs, and information from generation to generation, usually by word of mouth or by practice.
What you need to know is that I no longer count Christianity as my only religion. My spiritual beliefs are much more far reaching than any one doctrine. I believe in many things. For me, the Bible offers guidelines not certainties.
However, no matter where I am I expect certain things to occur on this weekend. Even though I am no longer religious I enjoy viewing the mythology that is the basis of Easter.
This weekend is not just about Easter but also occurs close to Passover. So, I expect that The Ten Commandments will be on TV at some point, usually Saturday. The Charlton Heston version, of course. More than four hours on the story of Moses and the legend of Passover. No, I don’t watch it all but I do like to be there for the parting of the Red Sea to look for fishes. For being filmed in 1956, there are some amazing special effects. And no, no glimpses of fishes this year.
On Palm Sunday or Good Friday there is usually a showing or two of Jesus Christ Superstar. I’m partial to the 1973 version; I was thirteen when I first saw it and my grandparents hated it. Too modern. This movie showed me that other interpretations of a story could be seen as valid. I loved the way the story was told; how the music brought it all together. How the movie dealt with greater moral values also intrigued me. How much of a pawn was Judas? How culpable was the crowd, made out of ordinary, everyday people just like me? What would I have done? At thirteen, I wanted to be an apostle and was dismayed that no women could apply for the task of spreading the gospel. Thankfully, this has changed within many denominations of Christianity.
Then, there are the little surprises in the movie. Such as, Holly Hunter as a reporter in the crowd scene after Jesus’s arrest at Gethsemane. Okay, after a brief tour through the interwebs, I can’t prove this. Plus, if it is her she would have been around 15 years old according to her biography. So, those of you familiar with the movie tell me what you think. Is that Holly Hunter in the crowd of news reporters asking questions (she does ask a question) or not? I”d love proof one way or another.
If I have to go to church, on Easter Sunday, let it be a sunrise service. After a long winter, it is nice to wake early to watch the sun rise and sing a blessing to spring and new awakenings.
So, what was this post about again? Oh yeah, my Easter traditions 
As a single person, I get to pick and choose my traditions. Yearly, if I so choose. This year, I challenged myself to give up something for Lent.
I choose to give up Junk Chocolate. Yes, that adjective is important. I buy at least one chocolate bar a day. I don’t always enjoy them and I definetely don’t need that much junk chocolate in my system. I didn’t think this was a habit I could break. Forty days without junk chocolate in my life seemed like forever. It wasn’t. I did it except for one slip-up on St. Patrick’s day. There was a new mint Three Muskateers bar out and I had to have one.
To reward myself I bought a small box of Bernard Callebaut chocolates just for me from the Easter bunny, plus a small bag of Jelly candies and had hard boiled eggs for breakfast. No, I didn’t dye them. It seemed too much work to just dye two eggs. Though next year, I may try something traditional, like this:
I hope you had a good Easter weekends and enjoyed your traditions whether they were new or old or a combination of both 
Update
Will try to have a new post Monday. Family issues continuing.
One thing I learned, over the last two weeks, is that people are more important than laundry.
