The Day Before

17 hours, 30 minutes to go. Between anxiety and exhaustion I was not able to get any work done today. I did manage to partially clean up the work area, save my remaining pile of raw materials,  two old writing desks and several boxes of assorted household items which have been in the way for weeks. I lost count of how many times I have shuffled the desks and other stuff from one end of the storage area to the other so I could work around it. My intent was to put it all curbside with a “Free Stuff” sign six weeks ago. Yet even that simple thing has eluded me. I make plans to put it out every morning, then start stressing about people stopping to look at it while I’m still putting it out – and that’s the end of contemplating it for that day! By the end of the day, I’m cursing at it for still being there. I want the stuff gone. I do not want any possibility of having to deal with people to make it be gone! I have put stuff curbside to get rid of it in the past, but not at times when I was having so much anxiety.

I hastily nailed a sheet of plywood over the opening where a window is supposed to go eventually. For the last week or so, I’ve been thumb tacking a blanket over the door opening at night to keep varmints from wandering in – especially skunks. Not that I dislike or fear skunks, but I would rather not have them wandering around my storage room and entry way. Years ago I had a “pet” skunk I named Digger (because skunks are always and forever digging up the lawn looking for grubs to eat). I would often be outside at night checking alignment of my moon-tracking antenna (it’s a long story) or performing other tasks. Digger would follow me around, curious what I was up to. He was well mannered and never a problem unless you count the night Mom cam home from a painting class and refused to get out of the car because Digger was waiting on the steps to say howdy! I had to go outside and ask him to move, which he did. I accidentally tripped over Digger one very dark night, but all he did was make a faint sound and look at me as if to ask “What’s your problem, buddy?” But I digress. Today I took a thin four by eight foot sheet of high density fiber board that had, to my dismay, been damaged by rain while sitting in my pile of project materials, and made a somewhat more durable varmint-blocker and rain shield. I reinforced it top and bottom with scrap boards and added wires to hold it in place. Essentially I stand it against the outside of the doorway, wires to the inside; then pull the wires tight and wrap them around screws temporarily protruding from the inside of the frame surrounding the doorway. This new “door” is hardly more rigid than a thick piece of paper. It takes a couple of minutes to “open” or “close” it. OK, so it’s crude but it works and it’s better than an old blanket and thumb tacks! Just call me redneck! 😉

17 hours, 10 minutes. Ugh. The biggest problems for me are not knowing what to expect and fear of complications. The oral surgeon refused to do a prior consult, and won’t make a determination as to whether I can have IV sedation until I get there tomorrow. If he says no, the deal is off. I’ll walk out. Moreover, I really don’t know what to expect in terms of recovery time and pain. I have a history of “losing” a week of my life after having a single tooth extracted. Six days because it won’t stop bleeding and one going back to the dentist to have it stopped, which is so easily done. I’m hoping with 29 extractions the oral surgeon will take care of that at the time and not make me come back when it proves to be an issue.

Most of all I’m worried about clear communication tomorrow. Jessica, may daily living support services worker who will be with me, probably won’t be allowed to be in the room while they are checking my heart and lungs to see if I can have IV sedation. If not, that means I will be on my own to make sure I understand their decision. It seems like the simplest thing, but in a state of panic understanding or communicating anything can be problematic.

The following day Ben will be here at some point to deal with the  heating technician coming to service and inspect my furnace. The timing is not ideal, obviously, but is the only slot they had open. Ben has promised to do all the talking so it should be OK. Jessica plans to be back as well, to see how I’m doing and whether I need anything. My case manager has promised to call me on Friday to see if everything is OK.

16 hours, 45 minutes. Tick, tick, tick. Damn noisy clocks! 🙂 Yes, I know I write slowly. Rednecks don’t type so well, ya know! 🙂