I got the second part of a root canal yesterday. Thinking she was just going to "check" me I stacked appointments and ended up causing the Endodontist to pause another root canal to attend to mine. I recognize that I should feel entitled for that but I don't. I had arrived early and waited over an hour in the chair while overhearing her patiently answer the same 5 questions from 3 family members who's sister/cousin/daughter was getting the same said procedure. I was, in fact, ready to excavate the dental chair when I wondered if I, already having paid for the procedure, would have to cover the cost of the Novi cane that had been injected 30 minutes ago. As I was preforming a cost/ risk analysis the Endodontist made an appearance, her assistant having noticed the grip on my purse tightening after I checked the time.
This is not a blog about a root canal. But it begins to take shape as a blog about boundaries and expectations. I have been saying, frequently, that as women we set our value. People will give to us what we allow and we have been whitewashed into thinking that having what we are given is better than having nothing. An economy of scarcity. I reject this idea in actionable terms. The idea of waiting the Endodontist out and missing my doctor's appointment was not worth my time, it was not a tradeoff I was willing to make. I was not on her time, she was on mine.
I have recently, categorically, been setting higher and higher expectations about how I will and will not be treated. And let's be frank- I've never allowed myself to be treated poorly. But somewhere in the past year something in me decided to raise the bar. Last year in Puerto Rico I had decided to "call out defecation kindly" which led me on a journey wherein people whom I had previously let get away with being (let's face it) a bit shitty, I began to call on their bullshit. In general, they did not like it.
I had mildly wondered as I started this process if it would equate to loss. It has yet I do not feel bereft. My observation is that for every person unwilling to treat me well, there were others who were. And the less I cared about my aloneness the more they want to gather around me. Factually- the less nonsense I tolerate the more people seem to like me. I am guessing that when people see someone stand up for themselves it emboldens them to try to do the same- but I don't really know. That's not my journey.
What I do know is that somehow or another I've ended up with what seems to be a tribe of fierce supporters who don't really know me but seem to love me. It's kinda weird- but it is Texas. Everything is bigger here, perhaps even the capacity for acceptance and affection.
The real story that I want to tell is about pain management. After part 1 of my root canal the doctor had prescribed "5 Advil and 2 Tylenol every 6 to 8 hours". She recommended starting the dosage 3 hours from the procedure as the numbing effects would begin to wane about then. Fearing the pain, I did as directed. I felt no pain, my root canal was as effortless as clouds on a sunny day.
This time I decided to listen to my body. It wasn't an attempt at bravery, it was a busy day and I hadn't brought the Advil and Tylenol with me. Additionally, I didn't think it was a good idea to drive around running errands with that much drugs in my system. By the time I had eaten dinner I could feel both sides of my mouth and the pain wasn't significant enough to decide to chemically manage it. So I forgot about it. 24 hours later I have full feeling and didn't need any pills to manage the pain. Which meant I felt no pain and my life moved forward without the constraints of legal drugs.
Me being myself I spent about 45 minutes meditating on why this was the case and what I could learn. I realized that the reason one needs a root canal is because the nerves in the tooth are dead. Which means they can't feel pain. I had only been in pain previously because the dead nerves had rotted in my tooth and caused an infection that was quickly multiplying in my jaw. Side note- the smell when she drilled into my tooth to remove the decay was exactly what one would expect- the smell of death in ones mouth. Weird. Anyway, with the nerve rot removed and a flushing of the infection my body literally had no ability to feel pain in that area. What had died couldn't hurt me and keeping it around had only caused me pain.
Here is what I learned; leaving a dead thing to rot only smells and creates a pain point. Getting rid of a dead thing is fast, painless, and while smelly, easier than one would expect. Relationships are like that. You think that removing a dead one will hurt but really it's much more painful to leave it in than flush it out. Something already gone, a relationship already dead, can't hurt you when you let it go. It just makes room for something else, even if that something else is extra space and freedom. It is your extra space and freedom and suddenly the area no longer smells bad. Having nothing is better than having a smelly rotten dead thing. Both literally and metaphorically.
Perhaps the true art to life is understanding when it's time to let something go.
Pain free-
Dewberry
