Patience Enough Not to Become Discouraged

Although I am not depressed, I am, I have decided, discouraged.  Impatient with my recovery progress as it pertains to my physical and psychological contentment with my new self; overtired from worries (perceived) large and small; unreasonably overwhelmed with the end of religious school flurry of activity.  All of these things, except the first, are things I can and should be able to “handle” and the last, savor, or at least, take in stride.

So I have installed at my desk an enlarged, highlighted (pink, of course) photocopy of a prayer from our congregation’s prayer book, which asks for, among other things, “patience enough not to become discouraged.”

This morning my dentist’s receptionist called to ask me if I would have my appointment with a hygienist instead of the dentist himself.  This may not seem like a big deal to most people, but I finally found a dentist I liked over 20 years ago and have followed him from place to place.  We have a good relationship, and he knows that using phrases like “I see we are not flossing regularly” with a grown-up is not only a waste of breath, but also a way to lose a patient.  Also, he does his checkup as he cleans, so it always feels more efficient!  For whatever reason, he has indulged me and done the cleanings himself ever since I’ve known him.  And this morning he has an emergency and he needs to deal with it while I get my teeth cleaned, and will check on me after I’m done with the hygienist.  My point (and I do have one) is that I acted like a mature person and agreed to come in anyway, then got off the phone and had a little cry.

Like I said, things I should be able to handle.  Tonight is our Teacher Appreciation service, normally a time of immense joy; a lot of fun to sit with my teachers at services and say nice things to them in a public forum.  Guess I’ll pray for more patience while I’m there.

Annnnnnd.............Blogspot was down for a while.  Back from dentist with small cavity. (No, I didn't get it there; it's just when he found it.)  Cleaning was actually pretty awful.  I never realized how used I was to the way Dr. Boff works (chatting about baseball and such the whole time, etc.), and the hygienist, although I am sure she was not trying to be unkind, did a whole lot of things that made me uncomfortable.  Cavity will get fixed in June.

Let's get through May, first.