You know it’s coming. You think you’re prepared. You researched (or not). My strategy in business and life for any issue: 1) identify best help I can afford; 2) take that advice.
So despite some crunchy points in the getting-to-know-you dance, I forked out an obscene amount of money to let the best oral surgeon I could identify have his way with one of my sinuses. Appearances aside, I’m cautiously optimistic. I added Arnica and Hypericum without permission. Taking their antibiotic and the painkiller willingly.
But here we are at another “hard to do alone” junction. Has nothing to do with being widowed: this is living single. While there are a myriad of aspects I like about being solo, when the dentist bites and the eye swells, well, the contrast hits.
In 2022, there were 126.9 million Americans in this boat, according to census.gov. Guess I’ve joined yet another club?
Grateful my mouth will be better, someday. Grateful for the friends who call. Grateful for the Cat Boys who are thrilled with bed-bound me, their favorite version.
In two days, Cat Boys will be sad and I will power through whatever awaits. Booyah?