Nothing brings on the need for a Pity Party like a sheet of paper with the heading “INSTRUCTIONS FOR SCALING/ROOT PLANING PATIENTS” from the periodontist. I’ve been in this predicament enough times that I’ve become an expert at making plans. First, I take care of the routines the dentist stipulates. I get prescriptions for sedation, nausea (never needed, but just in case), and pain (usually needed only the day of the procedure). I check for a pack of peas – or corn, which I like better – in the freezer for swelling. I follow the rules for no make-up (no problem) and no breakfast (a problem).
I learned a lesson the first time I took the sedation medicine with instructions to take two tablets an hour before the appointment and bring the third with me. The first two kicked in before we had to leave for the doctor’s office, and Al couldn’t get me to move toward the car. A loopy me decided it was time to clean up the clutter in the house. (Why don’t I ever get this urge when I’m sane?) The dentist’s office called when I didn’t show up to see where we were. By that time, we were on the way, Al having finally persuaded me to get into the car. We reached an agreement that, in the future, I would take the medication and get in the car before the meds have time to kick in. They will allow me to be loopy in the dentist’s waiting room until my appointment.
All this taken care of, the real preparation for my Pity Party began. Being pretty much out of it for the procedure, I need the real care after it’s all over. I spent more energy getting this set up than I did on the dentist’s instructions. I arranged my napping pillow, my favorite afghans, the sleeping couch as comfortable as Dagwood’s, and Little Women since I just saw the movie which brought on the urge to read it again. Just in case I don’t have the energy to read, Fiddler on the Roof had been recorded on the TV. Soft foods are necessary with the only ones coming to mind fitting into the range of mashed potatoes, applesauce, ice cream, cheese grits, and milk shakes. Oatmeal might fit, but I made a promise long ago that when I got out from under Mama’s dietary regulations, I would eat oatmeal only in cookies when it is nice and crunchy. I made homemade chicken noodle soup for a transitional treat when chewing becomes an option.
All prepared, I headed to the periodontist for the two-hour procedure of which I remember not one whit (the sedation), and returned home to my well-prepared nest where I mostly slept the day away.
That was yesterday, and all Pity Parties should come to an end. I recommend throwing a good one as needed and joining me in deep gratitude when it is finished. (But if you have fun foods and activities left over, they don’t need go to waste!)