Archive for January, 2013

Gaping Hole Heals

Two men with CLL healed their CLL (which is incurable at this time) by getting metal amalgams out of their mouth. I went to see two dentists to discern how much this would cost me. When I was a kid I ate tons of candy and had lots of fillings. I thought the fee would be absurd.

My second dentist, actually a childhood friend from the neighborhood, noticed I had an amalgam tattoo. Apparently, a sliver of metal (mercury, nickel and all the other toxic components) slipped under the surface of my skin under my tongue, and was lodged on the floor of my mouth. He said he couldn’t cut it out and I needed an oral surgeon for this procedure. The Internet says there is nothing dangerous with amalgam tattoos, but if metal in teeth is dangerous, I have a sneaking suspicion having that stuff stuck in my skin is worse.

It took me months to get in to see the man who had removed not only my wisdom teeth, but also seven of my baby teeth because my jaw was too small. Some of my earliest memories in life are lying in a bed at the side of the hall in this man’s office. After every single extraction (three separate occasions) I woke up out of anesthesia throwing up blood all over myself. Back then I guess they didn’t have that vacuum suction tool that retrieved blood before it trickled down the throat and into the stomach.

This sliver of metal was small. How tough and tedious a procedure could this be? I figured a bit of Orajel (topical solution), a shot of Novacaine to numb the area, then a quick snip and I’d be done. The doctor told me they’d have to do this in their surgery suite, I’d have to be briefly out with an IV, it might possibly effect my saliva output from now on, and I had to sign on the dotted line for a biopsy.

I told the nurse I wouldn’t sign for the biopsy. The dentist said it’s mercury, nickel and other toxins. Biopsies like this, of which I’ve had a few, are a CYA of medical procedure that costs the patient a couple of Ben Franklins. The doctor came in again, this time with a very stern look on his face. He told me to shut up and sign.

“If you don’t like the terms, you can leave.”

I fumed for ten minutes. Then asked for a refund of the $600 (which had been a 50% discount because we are friends).

When I ripped my frenulum (linguae) with FOG before the turn of the century, I freaked out. I ran to my dentist and he laughed at me. “We can’t stitch that. It will heal by itself.”

Two hours later when I got home, I sterilized my fingernail scissors and hemostat, got my Orajel out of the drawer, hiked up a big flashlight and mirror so I could see what I was doing, and did the procedure myself. I thought it was going to be just one snip, but I had to snip twice. The hole was the size of the end of my little finger and it barely bled. Adrenaline is a pretty good numbing agent.

At the urgent care last night where I went for my monthly port flush a male nurse said he fixed his own abscess with a drink for courage and the tools of his trade. He said I did an excellent job and to gargle with Listerine or Hydrogen Peroxide.

This morning, much to my surprise, the hole I’d cut is practically non-existent and the sliver of metal on my desk is still a sliver of metal on my desk.

Birth Announcement

How many of you know what writing a blog is all about?
How many would want to publish your private thoughts and feelings?
“Could you write your truth sitting here for a week?”

One of life's gifts

As I’ve said elsewhere, I’ve been writing privately since 1972.
I have 3 separate shelves of diaries, pre-dating my online version.
I was inspired at 19 when I saw this picture of Anaïs Nin.
anais nin stack of diaries

It is time to come out of these private pages.
diary rack 2
My new life must integrate head, heart, body, and soul.
Each day may be the last, what gift did I come to give?
dare i love her

Hovering ever since High School

A friend recently said to me, “Ever since high school you’ve just kinda been hovering, it’s time for Lisa to break out.”

I see it a different way. Entering high school I knew what goals I wanted to go for, started early in achieving the steps necessary to getting elected, put myself fully into every office I won, and achieved all my goals. However, I left those years exhausted and stressed out. I learned quickly that the success I’d aspired to consumed my entire existence. I didn’t have freedom to choose again, to change my mind, to cross over mid-stream and integrate new lessons into the rigid rules I had to abide by. I discovered I was much more of a free spirit and an introvert, even though I’d learned how to get the most out of my extroverted side encouraged by my parents.

I have been hovering. I’m a fire sign that is known to be aloof when it comes to commitment. I don’t like the word, much less the behavior. It’s not that I’m not loyal. I’m extremely loyal in retrospect, just not from the get go or as a promise to be so.

I like having the freedom to decide in the moment where my enthusiasm lies. I find it difficult to perform on cue, to raise my focus on the spot when perhaps that day I’m tired out from the day before. Plus, what happened all those years ago was that I wore my Presidential hat but the Poet in me wanted to run away with pen and paper and forget all about Robert’s Rules of Order.

I’ve been hovering because goals that came up over the years didn’t have enough lasting power to make me leave my fears of being chained down again on the sidelines.

I went in many directions but two curiosities lasted through them all; writing and the orgasm. Writing was my orgasm until I learned what orgasm was all about. I got frustrated trying to write in a way that would bring my moments to others and show them how fulfilling they could be, without turning them off or making the moment fake so it would be acceptable.

Naomi Wolf has a book coming out called VAGINA. She says there is a deep fear among women to be too sexual lest they be shunned or worse, imprisoned. It has happened before, it could happen again and women carry this unconscious fear around inside of them.

Men I’ve shared my hunger with never had these fears of being as sexual as they wanted to be. They didn’t worry about their reputation. They wanted satisfaction, plain and simple.

Moving out of the big city and back to my hometown lifted my stress load even further. I knew the back streets to get from Point A to Point B quickly if the major thoroughfares were clogged with others. Everything was easier because it was familiar. I knew Hollywood but even the back streets there were crowded and I don’t like chaos.

What I was dealing with inside of my heart and soul consumed my attention. Unfamiliar logistics was one stress straw I wanted nowhere near this camel’s back.

I was tired of driving around not knowing where I was going. I didn’t just come home to my hometown. I came home to myself. I came home to the part of me that had success earlier and carried it well even though inside I was suffocating.