For want of a tooth...

Thank you, everyone, for all the thoughtful advice you gave me yesterday. It was really appreciated, and empowering, and I was starting to feel brave and ready to do something.

Then I went to my second dentist appointment this morning.

The two cavities are worse than they thought. At the very least, I need root canals; at worst, the teeth are going to have to be replaced. Months of work are going to be involved, and thousands of dollars.

So...that's it. I can't quit. Because of my fucking teeth, I have to stay at this job that I hate.

I just...y'know, if this were a novel, this would be the kind of plot twist that would really piss me off. You can change your life but what's stopping you is DENTISTRY? What bullshit is this?

Anyway. I'm back at the office now with temporary fillings, puffy chipmunk cheeks, and a head woozy from Novocain, which is also probably the only thing that's keeping me from smashing stuff. I know that this is not a tragedy; this is an inconvenience, an annoyance. I'm not actually ill, so it could be a lot worse; with my insurance and those savings I was talking about, I will even be able to afford this (I think), although all that fallback money is going to be gone. It could be so much worse.

But I'm furious at myself, and I guess at the world? At TPTB? Fate? Way to give me a big old FU, guys; I think I got the message.

So, I guess it's back to work.

Sigh.

*verklempt*

Oh my God! Not ten minutes after I made that last post, flowers arrived for me! Talk about timing! At first I thought it was from a publisist—the other Associate Editor, who does parties, is always getting gift baskets from club promoters—but it was from John and Rodney! Well, that's what the card said, anyway. ;-)

Whoever you are, thank you so, SO much. I am so touched— I love all of you and I'm so glad I have this place to bitch and squee and mourn and rejoice in. Thank you.

*huge, enveloping hugs*