I have fallen into a funk, folks. It started with my abscessed tooth that my regular dentist checked. He sent me to an endodontist to do a root canal. She doesn’t use laughing gas, so I chickened out. Next I saw my oral surgeon who recommended I get a root canal and he knew just the guy. So tomorrow I have to decide whether to get it pulled or get a root canal by his recommended endodontist, who can’t see me until the 29th.

I am feeling guilty for Rob having to drive me to all these different people. He wanted me to let the first endo I saw do it. And now I am looking at paying 3 different people for evaluations!

One of my prescriptions I get from my neurologist is all bollixed up and I need to make calls about that tomorrow.

Cue depression, anxiety and you-name-it.

I am getting older and a very important issue is nagging me. When I go, Rob will not have a single relative in town. He and my younger sister are close, but she lives up north.

I had two toilets die downstairs and 2 guys came out to fix them. I forgot to tell them that my bathroom sink is draining way too slow. And the toilets can be flushed now, but they seem to be running a long time after flushing.

Sigh. I am the one explaining the path to you and how hard it is to make even a tiny bit of progress. Well, guess what? I am here to say it again and again and again.

I have made it through the loss of a child and a mate, but now it is me giving myself trouble.

Let’s analyze the backed up toilets. Obvious, right?

I can’t even have a good cry because my neuropathy pills keep me on an even keel. But I feel like crying. Everybody deserves a good cry.

Got onions?

Vicki Woodyard