This One is Gross

I'm not lying in my title.  If you're easily disgusted, don't read this post.  This is the one where I tell all about the joys of gum graft surgery.  Ready?  Let's go...
For years, my dentist has been telling me my gums were receding  and I need to brush more gently or I'd have to get gum graft surgery.  He recommended an electric toothbrush to control the pressure, then a soft head, then less frequent brushing.  I've done all these things.  To no avail.  Finally last May, my dentist gave me a little prescription paper with a periodontist's name and number on it, and said it was time.  Sigh...
So I called Dr. Skanchy and made an appointment for a consultation.  On my initial consultation, Dr. Skanchy told me that sometimes the cause of gum recession is excessive/hard brushing, not always.  He said in my case it's probably more genetics.  Each tooth sits in its own socket, and for most people, it sits in the center of the socket.  My teeth sit towards the front of their sockets, so there's just less gum in front of each tooth.  That, combined with regular wear and tear, has led to receding gums over the years.  He found five teeth that looked especially critical, meaning if I didn't have surgery on them, I would probably eventually have bone damage and tooth loss. 
I had my first surgery last August.  I went into it completely naïve.  Dr. Skanchy's assistant told me at the consultation that after the surgery I would need to be careful about not eating nuts or seeds because they would get caught in the stitches.  They said it would feel like a pizza burn on the roof of my mouth.  And they said the stitches would come out after a week and I would be done.  Here's what actually happened: they shot me up with all kinds of novacaine (sp?) all over my mouth and then let me watch as they took a knife to the roof of my mouth.  After a minute or so I saw them carry a little piece of gum tissue away (they cut into the roof of my mouth and took tissue from inside- the first layer is the wrong type of tissue).  Then the assistant hurriedly brought out the little vacuum thingy and kept that going for a while to take care of what must have been gushing blood (maybe I'm being a little dramatic).  Then Dr. Skanchy came at me with a huge piece of string and little hook and put four stitches into the roof of my mouth.  Next they shot me up with more novacaine just to make sure I'm still numb where they're going to put the graft.  Then he brought out a tiny little scalpel thing and cut a little opening to attach the new gum to at the base of my teeth.  I have the idea that he might score the existing gum a little, to give the new gum something to grow into, but I'm not sure.  Then they stitch it up and move to the next area. 
I left the office last time with two prescriptions to fill and went off happily to the pharmacy to get them.  I got home in plenty of time to beat the pain, but suddenly realized there was nothing in my fridge I could eat.  I wasn't supposed to eat hot food (it would induce bleeding), and I didn't want to binge on ice cream all night, but I had very little that didn't require chewing.  But I had to take my pain killer immediately and needed to take it with food.  I drank some milk, took my medicine and went to watch tv. Twenty minutes later I was staring into my toilet and shoveling yogurt down my throat as fast as possible, hoping to beat the sickness that was happening from the empty stomach/pain killer combination.  The next week was rough.  I could only brush/floss certain areas of my mouth, and I had to use a prescription mouth wash twice a day.  One of the stitches in the roof of my mouth was looped around one of my teeth and stitched into the other side, and every time my tongue hit it, or I made any kind of sucking motion in my mouth, it pulled at the stitch.  It's amazing how often we suck.  Even just licking your lips causes a little sucking.   Finally, six days later, that stitch broke loose when I was eating dinner.  I felt like Forrest Gump when his leg braces break as he's running from his bullies.  I was free!  The next day I went in for a check up and to get my stitches out.  Really, the stitches might have been the worst part.  They hurt so bad!  The loose ends chafed against the insides of my mouth every time I talked, smiled, etc.  I was sooooo ready to get them out. The assistant said it all looked good and the stitches would fall out eventually.  What?!  I wanted to scream!  I thought that visit would be the end of my misery!  I thought I was done!  Now I had to just wait for the stitches to come out on their own?!  Not cool.  Then she told me about my routine.  For the next four weeks, I still couldn't chew with the teeth that had been worked on, I couldn't brush anywhere near the new gum, and I had to swab those areas with the prescription mouth wash twice a day.  A month!  I was prepared for a long week with this surgery, but it had suddenly become five long weeks! 
But the time went by and my mouth healed and my gums are strong and good now.
And then last week happened.  I always knew I had to go back for a second surgery.  Dr. Skanchy only did one side of my mouth last time so that I'd still be able to eat.  So this was the second round.  I was prepared.  I knew what I was getting into, and I was ready to face the music.  I bought spinach so I could get vegetables in my smoothies, I made jello, I had squash puree standing by, I even got my prescriptions ahead of time.  I went in on Friday, and Dr. Skanchy decided to do a few extra teeth, including one on the side he had already done.  And he did an extra big strip on my other side.  And some on the front.  In other words, MY ENTIRE MOUTH!  I just wanted it done and over with, so I didn't argue.  A couple times throughout the surgery, he wondered out loud how I was going to eat for the next little while.  As I was leaving, he said I could probably chew with my back top right molar.  That's one tooth.  I don't care how talented you are, it takes more than one tooth to chew.  Then, because he had done an extra big strip, he gave me a couple extra prescriptions to help with swelling and infection, and told me I'd better fill them that night.  Nooo!!! I was so prepared so that I wouldn't have to go to the pharmacy!  But I went.  With my puffy face and drooling speech, I went out in public and got my medicine.  By the time I got home and ate my yogurt and jello, the pain had beaten me and I spent the rest of that night feeling every bit of the deep cut in the roof of my mouth and waiting for the pain medication to kick in. 
By the next morning, I was fine.  Now I'm just trying to figure out how to eat.  I've just about mastered chewing with my top back molar and the very corner of the molar below.  Mostly I just suck on my food until it's soft enough to swallow.  Or I give up and swallow it whole anyway.  I'll say one more thing- I can't wait until April 4th- my five week point.

The Secret Life of Carolyn Glauser, Episode 2

I've wanted to work for Boeing for years, I think even since before Chrysler, or at least right around the same time.  I'm on their regular job email list, and I've applied to several over the years.  A couple weeks before Thanksgiving, I finally got an email asking if I'd be able to interview for a job with them.  I just happened to have a day off later that week, so I asked if we do could it that morning (it was just a phone interview).  It worked for the two managers who would be interviewing me, so we made it happen.  The phone call went really well, and it turned out the job sounded really interesting to me. From what I could tell, it was a lot like my favorite assignment at Chrysler, only with way bigger engines.  But it was in Seattle, which I know nothing about, and I had done some research and had a feeling the job wouldn't pay enough to justify a move to Seattle, so I was only mildly excited.

A couple weeks later, the hiring manager emailed me again and asked if I'd be willing to fly to Seattle for another interview and to meet the team.  I wasn't sure how serious I was about this job, so I asked him what the salary was.  He gave me a ballpark range, and I was right- it would pay basically what I make now, but in a city with a roughly 20% higher cost of living.  But, I still had a couple days off (I like to save a few random days off for the end of the year in case surprises like these come up), and at the very least, it would give me a chance to see what was up there, so I said sure.  So a week before Christmas I flew to Seattle.  It was just a day trip- I flew up there in the morning and back that night.  And I fell in love with Seattle.  I parked my car on a frozen tundra at the airport in Salt Lake;  it was 7 degrees and the parking lot was covered in ice too thick to even see parking spaces.  When we landed in Seattle, it was about 50 degrees, sunny, and everything smelled like plants.  I love that smell!  By the time I got my rental car and drove the forty minutes north to Boeing, I was too warm in my winter coat.  Later in the day, I ended up taking off my suit coat too and was just walking around in a short sleeved blouse.   In the middle of December! It was fantastic!  And it was gorgeous.  The city looked like a normal city, but all the surrounding area was pine forests and mountains.  I've always secretly felt like I belong in the Puget Sound.  I just hadn't ever been there.  But now I've seen it, and I love it.

And I really liked Boeing.  The campus was really pretty, and walking through the building where the job would be, I felt like I was back at Chrysler.  It had very much the same feel.  I felt at home there.  I sat and chatted with the hiring manager for a bit, and then I met with the team.  I thought it was going to be an interview, but it turned out they just wanted to see if I could fit in with the team.  So it was about a half hour conversation between me and three single guys about my age.  I've been preparing for that interview my whole life!  We talked about our hobbies, our favorite tv shows, favorite cookies, etc.  I thought it was fantastic.  And that was that.  Afterwards, the hiring manager came back and walked me back to the front door and said he'd get back to me.  I thought it wasn't quite worth a flight to Seattle, but whatever.

I had a few hours before I had to be back to the airport, so I drove to a little park that had a great view of the city and took my first selfie.  You can kind of make out the space needle in the background of the picture.  In real life, it looked much bigger.  I don't know why it turned out so distant in the picture.

Back at the airport, I found out that flights were being cancelled because there was a freezing fog in Salt Lake and planes couldn't land.  And then even if planes could land, all connections out of Salt Lake had been cancelled because planes couldn't take off.  So people were scrambling all over to figure out their travel plans.  Luckily, my plane was big enough that it had the right instruments to land in the fog.  But it was still delayed a couple hours.  So as I sat there on the tarmac, wondering if I'd get home that night and glad I had also taken the next day off work, I was just wishing I could stay in Seattle where it was warm and sunny.

A week after Christmas, my phone rang while I was at work and it said it was a Washington number.  I ran outside to take the call, with my hands shaking.  The whole process had gone so well, I was pretty sure I was about to get an offer, and the only thing I was worried about was how I would sell my house and then afford a new one in Seattle on a too-low salary.  But it turns out I didn't need to worry.  The hiring manager said they all really appreciated my going out to meet them, but they didn't think I showed enough energy during the interview.  I thanked him and that was that.  But after I got off the phone, I realized I have no idea what that means.  I'd been more enthusiastic for that job than I've been for anything in a while.  And it was barely an interview.  It was a conversation.  How could I have shown more energy?  Did they want me to do jumping jacks?  So the next day I emailed him for clarification, just so I could show more energy in future situations, but he never got back to me.  And, just to throw a little salt in my wound, I'd spent all Christmas preparing myself to give two-weeks notice when I got back to work.  Instead, on the day when I'd been planning to do it, one of my favorite co-workers gave his two-weeks notice.  Jerk!

My People

Many years ago, when I was just a wee thing doing my undergrad at BYU, there were a few people who I'd run into all the time.  I'd see them in my classes, all over campus, at the grocery store, at sporting events, etc. They were just THOSE people, who were ALWAYS there.  I never knew their names or anything about them.  They just happened to always be in the same places as me.  I called them 'my people'.  For instance, if I saw one of them at a restaurant, I could say to my roommate, 'That guy is one of my people,' and my roommate would know what I was talking about.

Today at the grocery store, there was a guy who looked very familiar.  He was there with his wife and kids, and I kept ending up in the same aisle as them.  Then, I ended up behind them at the cashier. Every time I saw them, I tried to figure out who this guy was.  Finally, as I was unloading my cart, I figured it out.  He was one of my people!  He'd been in my Econ 110 class, and everywhere else on campus and in Provo that I ever went between 1998 and 2002.  And now he's back in the neighborhood.  Or maybe they're just in town for the holidays.  In any case, it seems my people are my people for life.

24 Hour Something

Yesterday I lived a day I hope I'll never have to live again. Wednesday night I unsuspectingly completed my nightly routine of reading in bed until about 10:35, then turned off my light and was asleep sometime not long after. At 1:00 am Thursday morning I woke up to aching ears and an aching throat.  But it was like no ache I've ever experienced.  I've had sore throats before.  And my ears have hurt before.  This was an all new level.  I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.  It was no good.  Every time I was almost out, I would have to swallow to calm my parched throat, and it would send my ears into a new dimension of pain and it felt like I was trying to force a tennis ball down my throat.  Needless to say, it also jolted me back awake.  So for the next four hours I tossed and turned and wished either I could sleep or it would be time to wake up so I could just get on with the miserable day I was starting to realize was ahead of me.  Finally, 5am surfaced and I crawled out of bed and faced my day.  By this time, the ache had moved completely from my ears and concentrated in my throat.  It felt like I had stones sitting deep in my throat, constricting any swallowing or breathing action.  I tried sucking on a lozenge, but I would have had to suck on it somewhere near my adams apple (do girls have adams apples?) to have any effect, so mostly I just numbed my tongue.  I googled throat pain, symptoms, and relief, and basically found that it's probably just a cold (not like any cold I've ever had) and I should gargle salt water.  I tried  that and got nowhere.  I was super hungry but couldn't imagine putting anything bigger than a flax seed down my throat, so I sucked on a piece of Life cereal as I headed out the door.  I've already scheduled all my vacation days (and plan to use them for something better than sitting on my couch crying in pain), so I went to work.  By the time I got there, I still hadn't talked to anybody, so when I said hello to my coworkers, I realized my voice wasn't mine.  You know when you get milk stuck in the back of your throat and your voice goes funny?  That was my voice all day yesterday.  I'm guessing that basically, whatever was swollen in my throat was blocking my vocal chords.  I know Christy's kids have dealt with tonsilitis, and that's the only thing I could imagine this might be (I like to go straight to the big stuff), so I started texting her for solutions.  She suggested ibuprofen to help with the swelling.  I tried that and guess what?  I've discovered another migraine trigger!  20 minutes later I was deep in the thralls of a migraine, complete with stomach issues.  I haven't taken ibuprofen in a couple years because I started noticing that it never helped with my migraines (ta da!  it was probably adding to them!) and I always got stomach aches when I took it.  The swelling in my throat did go down and the ache was muted, but for the rest of the day I was basically useless as I sat slumped in my chair with my head in my hands, and with a very quick digestive turnaround.  I had a dentist appointment after work, and then I went to a medical clinic to get my throat looked at.  I just couldn't bare the thought of another night and day like I had just experienced.  The doctor spent about a minute looking at me, told me it wasn't strep, was probably just the early signs of a cold, and that I should gargle warm salt water.  She probably thought I was an alarmist who goes to the doctor every time I get a splinter or hang nail.  I felt like shaking her and telling her this was really bad.  I'm the person who once had a phlegmy cough for two months and didn't go to the doctor.  I'm the person who once had a really, really itchy rash for five months before I mentioned it to my doctor as a sidenote at a regular appointment.  For me to fork over a $40 copay to get a sore throat checked out on the first day is saying something!  But she didn't know that.  So great.  I was right back to where I'd been 13 hours earlier with google.  I went home and cried a little.  So I went to bed early and hoped to get a little sleep in before it all started up again.  Instead I slept soundly until 5am dawned this morning and my throat didn't hurt at all.  It's as if yesterday never happened.  I'm wiped out from my migraine (I'm always a little woozy the day after a bad one), but whatever that sore throat was has left as quickly and furiously as it came.  Good luck to wherever it's going!  One of my coworkers took the picture below as I sat at my desk yesterday morning.

Just a Few Things

I don't really have much to blog about, but since it's been a few months since my last post, I guess that means I shouldn't just wait til I have something to say.  Instead I'll say nothing.
Sometimes it'd be nice to know the back-story of people I see around town.  For instance, the middle-aged couple I saw walking their donkeys across a busy intersection from one commercial parking lot to another a few months ago.  No trailers or trucks to be seen.  Just out for a walk with their donkeys?  Or the guy walking around Daybreak Lake wearing cat ears, a long tail, and a collar and collecting cans.  I can't even speculate, but I'm sure there's a good explanation.  Or the guy working the counter at the post office with one of those metal brace things screwed into his skull and attached to his shoulders to hold his neck steady.  What must he have done?  Or the guy in the waiting area at the car dealership when I go to get my oil changed- the one dressed all in black, looking like he's about to go ride off on a motorcycle, but instead he gets into a smoking hot Challenger with a spoiler and a sunroof.  Yeah, I wouldn't mind knowing his story.

My Colorful Vocabulary

Last night I learned something new about myself.  Actually, I learned something new about everybody else. I'm reading a book called 'Musicophilia'.  I thought it was going to be an entertaining book about the strange ways music affects people.  Turns out, it's more a series of medical essays of strange experiences people have had with music, like people who get songs stuck in their heads so long and so loud that it interferes with their lives, or people who only hear horrible noise when other people hear music.  But the chapter I read last night was about a neurological condition called synesthesia, roughly translated to mean 'combined senses'. The book talked about the form when people literally see color when they hear music.

But it also talked in detail about people who have colors associated with numbers, letters, days of the week, months, etc.  And I thought, 'wait, not everybody sees their world color-coded?  Weird.'  As long as I've known, numbers, letters, days, and months have had colors assigned to them.  And not just colors, but specific shades and personalities.  For instance, 4 is light silvery blue.  7 is kind of sage green.  Put them together and 47 becomes a really nice teal.  It's the prettiest number, and for that reason has always been my favorite.  74 is my second favorite number.  It has more green in it because 7 has a stronger influence as the leading digit.  As I was reading, the book was talking about one 'synesthete' to whom somebody said that 9-11 happened on a Monday.   When I read that, I thought, 'I don't think so.  9-11 was a red day, which means it must have been a Tuesday.  If it had been a Monday, it would have been blue with brown highlights.'  Then I read the next line in the book, and it said basically that same thing, except the synesthete in the book associated yellow with Tuesday and 9-11.  A few more examples: July is bright blue with lime green highlights, and loud.  January is another blue month, but quiet.  I used to be really good at guessing people's birth months based on their personalities.  I don't know how good I am anymore, but people generally fit with their color and personality.  9 is brown, strict, and practical.  5 is red, short, sweet, and fun, but gets the job done.  6 is orange and way out there.  Z is silver and trustworthy, V is the same color as 47, W is gray and fun, N is brown and plays by the rules, etc.  I did a little research today, and it turns out about 1 in 23 people are synesthetes (although the number is probably higher because a lot of people who think this way don't realize it's unusual so they don't report it).  Also, neurologists and psychologists think it might be genetic.  So, family, do any of you live in a color-coded world?

To The Races!

It's the season of races.  Preakness, Kentucky Derby, Triple Crown, big hats, mint juleps, all that good stuff.  I was lucky enough to get in on some of the culture and action this past weekend.  One of the girls at work had a few tickets to Rocky Mountain Raceway on Saturday, so some of us went to watch the car races!  Okay, maybe it's not quite the same culture as the Kentucky Derby, but it was definitely some kind of culture.  Instead of mint juleps they had lots of beer; instead of big hats they had big tats; instead of the Triple Crown, they had double-deckers: literally, one car welded on top of another (fourth and fifth pictures below, it's kind of hard to see, but it was like nothing I've ever imagined).  The driver in the top car was in charge of steering and the driver in the bottom car was in charge of gas and braking.  And they weren't what you would consider race cars.  They were like Geo Metros on top of 80's Honda Accords.  It was crazy.  For the final race of the night, they had five or six double-deckers do a half track.  This included a 45-degree angle turn, with the cars going as fast as they dared.  They were wobbly to start, and on that turn it was scary.  One of them very nearly toppled on the last lap.  It teetered on two tires for a few seconds as the crowd gasped and screamed, but it came to a solid landing and won the race.

A couple of the races were for compact stock cars (or something like that).  They were tiny.  I didn't realize how tiny they were (it was hard to get a perspective on the track) until one of them broke down and the crew had to go help it out on the track (sixth picture).  The car probably didn't come up to their knees.  I have no idea how a driver crams himself into one of those.

Despite the overall culture, though, I loved it.  When those engines got roaring I couldn't help smiling.  I think there's something in me that breathes exhaust and bleeds engine oil.    My favorite was what was called 'modifieds' (the first and third pictures below).  I don't know what kind of car their bases are, but they look like sports cars mixed with derby cars.  They're really low to the ground and their right hand side tires stick out a couple feet for stability.  And they're super loud.  Fantastic.  Before any of the races start, the cars would all come out and do a couple laps behind a pace car (picture number 2).  During those laps, they would zigzag along the track and look intimidating and fierce, like they're just chomping at the bit to get out from under the pace car and release all their force.  I guess the zigzagging is to loosen the tires and the steering.  It really added to the whole menacing persona of the cars though.  Going into the evening, I thought four hours watching cars go around a track might get long;  but it flew past (zoomed past?).  About halfway through the evening I started rethinking my career choice.  I could really get into driving menacingly as fast as possible without it breaking the law.