I’ve been thinking about my Mum quite a lot during the last couple of days. It started when I was sorting through some old emails, stumbling across some of hers, sent to us when we were off on our travels somewhere. As my finger hovered over the delete button, I came to my senses and clicked save instead – though I didn’t feel like reading them there and then, I had no doubt that sometime in the future, it will be lovely to read her words again.
I thought about her again yesterday morning, when I set out for the dentist to begin work on the replacement of the lower molar I broke and subsequently had extracted during the summer. Mummy was absolutely terrified of the dentist and would do anything to avoid a visit. Though my fear isn’t quite in the same league, I nevertheless don’t find the prospect of an appointment easy and over the last couple of days I’d built myself up to this particular one, feeling some relief when the time came to get it over and done with. After all, there are times when we need to be grown up and summon up all courage – and I smiled to myself knowing that, in these circumstances, having my Mum there for me would be no use whatsoever!
My anxiety was wasted however, because it appeared that this appointment was simply to talk through the options, to discuss the viability of an implant and to make sure I knew what I was letting myself in for. I hesitate to say, but it was also, I think, to make sure I agreed to pay for this treatment, because it doesn't come cheap. It was clear from my expression that I was feeling ambivalent about the wasted anxiety and apologies were forthcoming and fulsome. A promise was made to begin work as soon as possible and between my leaving the surgery and finding my way to the reception desk to make the next appointment, an hour and a half yesterday afternoon was found. Exactly the kind of strategy used by her friends and family to coax Mummy to the dentist!
So, I understand – believe – hope that the worst is over. The work has begun and in the next three months hopefully my jawbone will grow around the titanium and all will be well. I must say, the process wasn’t as bad as I’d feared and although it’s a little sore and swollen this morning, the antibiotics and paracetamol will hopefully sort that out in a couple of days. I’ve sent apologies to my meeting this morning on the advice of my dentist, who said that I should take it easy and enjoy a restful day at home. Clearly he had no idea what life at home is like right now!
Because work is beginning here too, in that we are at last able to have the leaks in our garden room roof repaired. The planning permission came through at the end of last week which will mean we can sort out the flat roof issues which have plagued us continually since this room was built. At the same time, we can repair the chimney which the sweep declared a safety hazard and somehow sort out a couple of niggles in our bedroom too. Get the picture? Builders likely to be here there and everywhere, currently sorting out scaffolding but soon to begin work in earnest.
And yes, it means I have to sort out my clothes. Oh heck.
At the same time as the builder was here working out a plan for the scaffolding, the tree surgeons were next door, taking the tops out of their overgrown and unattractive leylandii at our request.
In other words, it was exactly the kind of day Mummy would have loved. People coming and going, things happening all over the place and work being done. Friendly faces appreciative of frequent cups of tea and best of all, someone to bake some currant buns for.
Shame she’s not around to enjoy one.
