Today was a rough one for the biggest baby in the house. Me.
After a morning appointment getting probed at the Fertility doctor...and being told that I'll likely only have one, maybe two, decent egg follicles to work with this cycle...I left dejected. I cheered myself up by reminding myself that we really only need one - but it's still a bit of a let down. This Wednesday is our previously scheduled "IVF Orientation" - and hopefully it will all be a waste of time because I'll get pregnant on my own this month. I will be crushed if we need to move on to IVF. Fingers crossed.
I got in the car and nervously made my way to... ~insert horror movie music here~...the dentist. I absolutely, positively, 100% hate going to the dentist. And if I hadn't hated it enough growing up - an incident almost ten years ago pushed me over the edge to being a complete dental-phobe.
I was a brand new flight attendant and was sent to the Baltimore Washington International base. It was my first time living on my own (what can I say...I was a late bloomer) and I was so excited to have my own apartment. My first trip ever at my new job was St. Croix. I was living the dream! About a month or two after I started working, I came down with a toothache on a trip. New to the area and knowing no one, I went to a dentist that I passed every day on my way home to my apartment. The dentist's name was Gallagher - my name - how could I go wrong!
I could go really wrong is how wrong. Fearful and trusting, I believed this dentist when he told me I needed not one, not two, not three - but FOUR root canals. I spent nearly five hours in the chair while they performed these - often crying and motioning that I could feel the pain. They continued to give me novocaine, but it wasn't working. I think I even went back for more a day or so later. Afterward, I was in bad - bad shape. My parents had to drive down from Pennsylvania to take care of me. My Mom bought a blender and some straws and all I could do was sit and moan in pain. I had to take a leave from my new job. It was a nightmare. I found out that the root canals had been completely unnecessary. There was a lawsuit that amounted to nothing. I moved out of my apartment and switched my base from Baltimore to Philadelphia and tried to move on from the experience. But it definitely left some scars.
So when one of the crowns that this charlatan put on ten years ago broke off last week, I wanted to cry. Actually - I did. I knew it meant I'd have to spend some time in "the chair". I guess it's like someone who is afraid of flying - that's how I must appear at the dentist. I grip the arm rests until my knuckles are white...I tense up my entire body, sometimes lifting my legs up in the air when I feel anything...and at times I even start shaking. It's pretty pathetic. But today went fine - I made it through and have a temporary crown on for two weeks...when I'll have to go back to ~insert horror movie music here~ the dentist.
The experience was torturous - but more than that I hated that I was *taken*. I am such a trusting person by nature. I've been warned and told all my life that I'm too trusting. But I love that about myself! I trusted that this medical professional knew what he was doing - would never "lie" to me...especially just to make money. But he did - and some of my innocence was shattered.
Today I found myself in a unique position. I sell things on Craig's List quite often. Recently a woman who lives right around the corner from our neighborhood contacted me to set up an appointment to shop. We corresponded for about a week and she seemed very nice. Today she came over to shop - looking to buy 18-24 month boy clothes for her newly adopted son. She brought with her a 4 year old daughter and a 15 month old son - both from Korea. They were cute and she was nice and she started to shop and that's when it happened. "Kate, do you mind if I give you a check?" Ugh. I have a strict "no check" policy (and you should, too!) when I sell on Craig's List. I've been screwed before. (Remember? Kate = Too Trusting) I had a weak moment and said, "Well...since you live so close...that's fine." As she shopped...and shopped...and shopped...with her pile of clothes and toys getting bigger...and bigger...and bigger...I started to worry. I wanted to trust her - but I felt so nervous about it. Her bill came to $62.50. As she pulled out her checkbook, I mustered up the nerve to tell her I had changed my mind. Since she lived so close, perhaps she or her husband could run back with the cash. I'd bag everything up and put it aside for her. She said that was fine and left.
I felt so bad. I felt responsible for "putting her out" should she come back at all. I felt like I might have hurt her feelings by making her feel like I didn't trust her. That's how my mind works - and that's probably why I've been hurt many times in 41 years!!
About two hours later, the doorbell rang. It was her husband who was very kind and appreciative and holding the $62.50 in his hand.
It's a constant and repeating struggle in my life - to trust or not to trust. Generally, I trust. And then hold my breath.