Maybe Don't Watch The News

It will surprise no one that my mouth sometimes gets me into trouble.

For instance, I kneeled on a chair as a kid, held on to the back, and SANG. One day I ended my routine by tipping the chair, and my teeth ended up going through my lip.

I moved my act to singing with a hairbrush while W-sitting on the kitchen floor. Star Search never called me to sing on the show.

Fast forward a few years, a couple root-canals and too tight braces. And one fake tooth.

I forget about it most of the time. Until last week.

In related news, except for the attitudes of other people, and some logistics, I think I’m more personally affected by my Anxiety than my Cerebral Palsy.

My panic reflex is to throw up. On Ferris wheels, in the bathroom right after I found out I was pregnant with Isla, on road-trips to see long lost friends.

It actually doesn’t happen often. Because I also have a phobia around throwing up. Loss of control and all that.

But last week, I was watching the news. Which I kind of never do. I read the news, but I don’t watch the news.

Last week, I watched the news. And then I had a panic attack and I threw up.

Another reflex I have is to always check my fake tooth is in my head. Last week, after the news, it was not.

Anyway. I probablyflusheditdownthetoilet. Anyway. Hi. With a wave.

After checking and rechecking and checking again. Neil made me a dentist appointment. Also anxiety-inducing.

And then I called my Dad.

‘I probablyflushedmytoothdownthetoilet.’

After he finished laughing (because that’s how we are, and for that I am thankful,) he told me not to skip my dentist appointment.

‘Kinda can’t,’ I said.

Did I mention we had to take Isla?

We did.

Did I mention we met ALL our new neighbors in the five minutes from our hallway to the car?

We did.

The three of us troop in as we do, and Neil goes, ‘I LOVE the smell of dentist’s offices!’

He did.

For real, though? Yeah well, I like the smell of gasoline and cigars, but I don’t advertize it.

I do.

‘What brings you here today?’ says the dentist.

‘I um, accidentally threw out my um, dental plate.’

‘She barfed in a bucket and then Daddy flushed it,’ says Isla.

Yes, well.

So, I’m in the chair with the molding thing in my mouth. Isla’s has her hand up my jeans, tickling my calf and she says, ‘I’ll be back, I gotta go poop.’

I’m out of the chair and she comes back and climbs in the chair. ‘Look at my Mum’s big bum print,’ she says.

I know the kid likes to lighten the mood, but I will say my bum isn’t actually big.

And the assistant hands me some tissues to wipe the molding stuff off my face before we leave.

‘Cool, but I don’t think that’s the thing people would notice at the moment,’ I say.

I make another appointment, get in the car, and y’know, stay in the house.

My new tooth isn’t ready, so I shall stay in some more.

The moral of the story is, maybe don’t watch the news. I’m not saying to be uninformed, but don’t have a panic attack and throw up. Look after yourselves.

For more things to do when you can’t leave the house, read here.

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