Sometimes you die in little pieces

I had dental surgery today. So I am up late tonight because once again the Dr. decided she absolutely had to give me steroids. I hate steroids. And she was as heavy handed with the local anesthesia. It was like a plot from a bad Clint Eastwood movie plot with the numbness. My jaw was out of touch for 15 hours. Just now back now and almost normal. It is late, and I am up because of the steroids. It's nearly 2 am. Damned steroids. They ruined me in chemotherapy and now, they ruin me again. Luckily if I need I have 2 leftover Oxycontin. One is all I need for tomorrow. Take it at 8 am, stay up till 10:30 pm. Then sleep like a child until early Saturday, in this case 7 am Saturday.

The obvious speculation is the infection that was associated with this tooth came from the cancer. I am not concerned about that. I am concerned that this is the second molar from that area and now I have to get two implants to fill where those teeth were. All that goes with the theory that now that I am fixing this old car I might as well do the the expensive stuff too. I guess the trick is figuring out what has to be the predecessor to what. My insurance spent about $300,000 on me. My wife spent her life, everyday, for the last 18 or so months investing in my health. I spent a whole bunch of self absorbed hours during that time as well. My teeth they are a problem, the two molars on my lower left have now been pulled. I either do something about it now or face losing more teeth in a cascading effect. So, $5k for a couple of tooth implants ain't gonna change the world. It just adds to the wealth put into my mouth and body. Fights, old age, and stupid dentists have reduced my teeth to only a few real teeth in my mouth (32-x=?. I wanted to keep them all, but reality is life, life is reality.

This weekend I am going fishing, chain sawing, cooking and drinking like a kid for a few days. Then I will come back and 3 days later leave on a trip where there will be explosions, guns, drinking, gambling, great food; and all this in the depths of remote Oklahoma. I could become macho, I think maybe; with luck, and being real careful to listen for banjo music. Until then and much more time after, most people will think of me as they will, with actually not whit of care on my part. You don't get this old and not feel like you earned something. At least not getting old the way I did:

Me * (1 war + College(s) - 2 (divorces) - 3 (cancers) + Hope) = My life So Far

Makes you look at life a little different. I'm looking forward to the birthday I wasn't supposed to have. I'll be 61. And next year, on 3/17/2011 I am going to send every one of those doctors that treated me a happy cancer card. "Two years, and I'm not dead yet. I had to search for good doctors sometimes"