That decrepit old hag

This is quickly and steadily becoming A List of My Ailments Blog, and I’m just waiting for the email or comment that is all, UGH! You just had to go and get OLD on us. I liked you so much more when your bones weren’t brittle!

The things I have done to damage your expectations, I know. First, I got married. Then I had a baby. And now! NOW I’M TAKING CALCIUM SUPPLEMENTS! Where is the dooce you used to know and love!

I had blood work done last week while getting a second x-ray on my tailbone, and today the results came back normal. Good news on top of the fact that my tailbone seems to be healing according to the x-ray. When I asked the doctor if it would be okay to travel again with this… this… broken butt? Isn’t that what it is, really? I broke my butt. There’s no getting around this. Not with Leta walking around going, “When is mom’s butt going to get better?”


The doctor said to take my butt pillow with me, and I’d be fine. Also, just curious, she was. What did I do for a living since I travel this much? Now, picture this, okay. She has just inspected me, taken a look at The Smallest Butt In The History Of The Universe, and this conversation is inevitably going to result in, “Oh, my friend told me about you. You’re that woman?” So before I told her, I said, um, the size of my butt falls under doctor/patient privilege, right? The Hippocratic Oath? And she was all, I will take knowledge of your tiny butt TO THE GRAVE.

Thank God no one will know about it now.

Anyway, I had to make an emergency appointment with my dentist this morning because one of the teeth on the right side of my mouth is making it so that I cannot chew food: the shooting, lightening-patterned pain! Straight up through my jaw, up into my eye, and bang into my forehead. And when my dentist sat down and asked what was going on, I was all, I’M FALLING APART! You think I’m kidding, but the odds are that you’ll lean over to take a look inside my mouth and suddenly my head will topple off right into your lap!

An x-ray and twenty minutes of prodding and hammering away proved that it has to be a sinus infection. It’s just that a certain nerve in a certain tooth sits inside my sinus cavity. Are you serious? It has nothing to do with my bones? I was prepared for surgery, and you’re giving me a prescription for an antibiotic? How can I possibly write about this in all caps, SIR?!

I can’t go back to the people with a sinus infection! They want DISEASE! They want LIFE-EXPECTANCY! Can I at least tell them you prescribed a cane? Because, let’s be honest. I have an image to uphold.