Sitting in the Oral Surgeon’s Office

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Front view of young woman holding her cheek in pain

As you all know, I had my wisdom teeth extracted about a month ago. I must say I am glad it is behind me! That day, naturally, I was quite tense and dreading the visit. I kept saying to myself as I sat beside my dad who drove me that morning, “What they heck are you doing submitting yourself to pain knowingly?”

Read moreI had to continually remind myself that I had been dealing with pain for six weeks and this was how I was going to get rid of it! I had an urge to flee that appointment that was strong and it took a lot of logic to keep me moving toward that office. It was a battle.

When I entered the waiting room, there was nothing else to do except survey the room. I didn’t have the frame of mind to even attempt to read something. I knew with my nerves doing that would be fruitless. So what else was there to do, but look at the faces before me?

The first woman I noted was a heavier-set blond woman, probably in her 30s. She was reading what appeared to be Reader’s Digest. I was envious she felt like reading. That lucky beast!! Her hair was up in a ponytail and she was wearing comfortable sweats and sneakers.

As I looked her over in quick, hoping to be not obvious glances, I became more and more envious of her. She was clearly not one of today’s victims, I thought. I watched her foot wiggle as her left leg was resting on her right knee. The movement her foot made was soft and flowing. It was calm, as if she were singing a tune in her head. Clearly, she was not stressed or tensed in the least. Her body language was relaxed. She had an outward appearance that nothing much mattered. I sat and wondered the nature of her visit: a post-op appointment? A second opinion? Whatever it was, it was going to be painless for her. That was obvious. If only that could have been me, I thought.

I envied her as I watched her. Subsequently, she was the first to be called in to see the doctor, and as I suspected, she came back out within minutes, happy as a lark as she went on with her day. What I would have done at that moment to trade places with her!

I was looking for comfort. I wanted to see another person there in my shoes who was coping better than I was, who could calm me with their self-assured demeanor — a lucky find in a desperate hour when the desire to bolt is stronger than the desire to stay.

Instead, I sat with all four limbs planted down beside me. My feet squarely planted on the floor, my hands tightly gripping the arm rests. For some reason in times of stress, we humans have a need to literally feel “grounded”. Why is that? We don’t want to feel in any way uneven, or unbalanced. Strange, isn’t it? I probably was rapidly shaking a foot or a leg, but I don’t consciously remember doing it. And if you watched me, my eyes darted around the room in an endless search for comfort, which I couldn’t find. I needed something, anything interesting to engage me. A happy woman in a chair, who was content, was not it! Or, I wanted an empathetic connection.

The next person who I feasted my eyes on came in the door dressed in a suit. Yeah, he was easy pickings. As he walked to the receptionist window with a briefcase, it was obvious he was a pharmaceutical salesman. No luck there. Most patients at an oral surgeon don’t come in dressed in a suit nor do they carry a briefcase. He was absent of all fear or worry, too! Damn. He went in to greet the receptionist through a private door.

I wanted company! I wanted a companion in my fear and apprehension. I didn’t want to feel like the only one.

Next, a couple walked in and went to the receptionist window. He was all friendly, bubbly and talkative: typical husband! He even talked for his wife to alert the receptionist she was here for her appointment, but his wife anything but happy and bubbly. She looked down as she walked in and sat opposite from me. Then she glanced out the window. She was in avoidance mode. These two people were simple people. Their faces told me they were kind at heart. They were hard-working people dressed for manual labor. She wouldn’t give me eye contact, so I kept my glances cursory, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off of her either.

She was clearly in pain–in agony, actually. The tension in her body matched mine, maybe even worse. By the look on her face, it became clear she likely had a toothache of major proportions. I think she had it worse than I did. I felt bad for her. This woman clearly reminded me of people I had known in the past who had a serious fear of the dentist. I suspect she had avoided one to the point of no return and it was the pain that finally made her relent.

As I glanced at her again and again, I tried to look mindlessly across the room. Her face just wreaked of fear. It took everything she had within her to keep herself planted in that chair. She refused to look at anyone and finally found a moment of peace when she spotted a finch in the tree outside the window. Her relief was as temporary as the bird that perched on that branch for a second before flying off again.

Male dentist's hand holding instrument

Just watching this woman across the room made me tense. That good old saying comes to mind, “Watch what you wish for!” I found myself getting more and more edgy. I so wanted to reach out to her to say, “I know how you feel…hey, we’re in this together. We’re not alone!” but her body language was clearly conveying to me, “I’m at my limit right now emotionally and physically”, so I held back in my desire for a connection. I caught myself about to speak three times — desperate not to feel so alone, but I knew it wasn’t the place or time. Her needs and my needs were not the same.

I was the first of the two of us to be called into the back. In between my discussions with the doctor, I saw her enter the room across from me and before I knew it, I saw her go to get an panoramic x-ray. The doctor said it was required for the work they were going to do. Then I heard her say to the doctor, “I know. I’m a weird cat. I do wear my night guard, but I wake up with it at my feet. It’s crazy, but what can I do? I take it out in my sleep and don’t even know it.”

I could overhear their discussions in bits and pieces. She had some serious infection and had obviously ignored her mouth for too long. They were discussing options for two different problems, and one of them required an immediate extraction. I saw her side profile. She was ghost white, and I suspect on the edge of a panic attack. Her body was rigid and tense as she sat in the dental chair. Then her door closed just before mine did and I never saw her again, but according to my dad, she took the same fateful walk I did out the back door where there were no stairs, but a car waiting to whisk you away! She gave up a tooth or two, too. I will never forget her face.

I just thought it was interesting how we wear our emotions on our face, how a visit to the oral surgeon’s office, where the stakes are high, can reveal a lot of details about who is having some serious work done and who is not…

Body language is often more powerful than words, if we only take the time to watch and observe.

Dog Training

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Man holding dog's paw in park, side view

A couple of months ago, I attended a dog training class. It was the first night, and as my husband and I walked in from the parking lot, I saw a round faced, older gray-haired gentleman who I did not think was very friendly looking. He greeted us by saying “Hi” and directing us into a building as he continued to talk with some of his friends. I was hoping like heck he wasn’t the trainer, because if he was, I wasn’t very confident he knew how to train dogs with anything other than force and fear. I knew his personality type well.

Read moreWe went into the building and sat on a bench, along with the other participants. A young brunette, probably in her 30s, approached us and asked us to fill out a form. She also asked for payment for the class. She was friendly.

I was on edge at this point wondering if she was going to train the dogs, or if this other guys was, because if was him, I wasn’t very confident that we would get along.

As other people walked in, the woman introduced her dog “Champ” to everyone. Since it was the first night, no one brought their dog, but strangely Champ wasn’t allowed to greet us. She had Champ on a mat in the arena, about 20 feet away from everyone. He had on a leash (I couldn’t tell if he was tied down or not), and had a prong collar on. He was very uptight and nervous. He was also whimpering and whining. He was clearly unhappy.

I asked how long she had Champ. She told me he was 5 years old and that she took him through this training several years ago and liked it, and so she decided to teach here as well. She then said that Champ wasn’t happy that he had to stay on his mat. That was very obvious.

I was perplexed why she didn’t let him socialize, if he was well trained. Well trained dogs should respond to commands immediately, if needed, and should be good with people. The goal of training is to give dogs and their owners freedom, after all.

I thought back to another training class I went to where the dogs were sociable and friendly, and were allowed off the leash almost exclusively because the instructors loved to show the magic of their commands. I started wishing I still lived nearby that facility.

I then overheard Champ’s owner, the young brunette, talk about their approach to training, because someone was talking about a difficult issue and I heard her say, “Dean will get them to do what is required, if that is what he has to do. Sometimes that is what it takes.” My ears perked up, but I couldn’t hear anymore.

I had called and asked about this training before coming, and the woman on the phone didn’t seem to know much now that I was at the facility. I must have gotten a secretary as they were a big boarding facility in the area. I had asked about prong collars and she said they didn’t use them. I asked about dominant methods and she assured me they only used positive reinforcement. Clearly, she had not attended training or she knew if she said that their clientele for a class would drop in half.

I looked at my husband at this point and looked at Champ. “Do you feel good about this class?” I asked my husband. He always depends on me for a good read and he just said, “If you are uncomfortable, we can leave.” I whispered in his ear, “I have bad feelings, but I want to give it a couple more minutes.”

I didn’t want to react to what I had seen so far. I wanted to make sure I gave this place fair consideration.

I was getting nervous and edgy just watching Champ whimper and moan. It wasn’t helping things. Champ was actually talking me out of this class the more I sat there. He was miserable and he was making me miserable.

The man who greeted us then walked through the door. I could see by the responses and his words spoken to others, he was the trainer. He had a very nervous dog by his side, too. It was a black dog with hair like a golden retriever, probably a year old. This dog also had a prong collar on and was clearly not happy either. The dog didn’t know what to do and this man held him in tight. The dog was on edge and very unsure. It was another bad sign. It was the tipping point for me.

I started thinking: These are the dogs they trained? They are miserable dogs, unable to socialize without a leash. What type of training is this? I remembered thinking of my original impression of the guy who greeted me: fear and force.

Both dogs have prong collars on — is this what this guy needs to get his dogs to listen? If this is the type of training this guy teaches, I’m out of here! His dogs are his examples, and I realized they were not what I was looking to achieve.

I stood up in front of 25 people, walked up to the young woman and said loudly for everyone to hear, “If these two dogs here are what your trained dogs are like, stressed, insecure and unhappy, this is not the type of training I care to participate it. I’m sorry. I want a happy, socialized dog when I finish training, who listens to commands without a leash and a prong collar. Can I have my money back?”

You could feel the room gasp as I said that. It became silent. The woman was tense and didn’t know what to do, and then decided to give me my money back. Sure, my reaction was socially out of the norm–perhaps shocking to those around me, but I was annoyed that other people weren’t questioning the body language of the “trained dogs”. It spoke volumes to me. It was getting me angry the more I thought about it.

I have since found an amazing class and haven’t regretted my decision one minute. My goal of speaking out was to get others to question what they saw. I hope I succeeded in helping other dogs find a much better solution!

Looking at a House

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Home for sale sign

This weekend, we were out of town and saw a cute neighborhood that caught our eye. There was also a lovely house that had a superb price, so we called the realtor and asked to see it. She showed up and showed us the house.

Read moreIt was nine years old and the “second owners” were selling it. When I heard that, my antenna went up. This house is in a vacation area with a beautiful lake within the block. Most people don’t buy it and get rid of it that quickly. These homes are usually a decent investment and in this location would likely be in a family for a lifetime, if not longer.

The first thing we noticed was a shower. It was a brick style shower with a porous feel to it. I have never seen anything like it, but what caught your eye was someone had recently painted it black and they did a sloppy job! The black paint was like this blaring red flag that something was wrong. Granted, there was a gray/black tile and the toliet was black, but the sloppiness was just so notable. My mom was with me and she immediately suspected mold. I couldn’t agree more. Everything these else was spotless.

As we walked out of the bathroom, I asked the realtor why they were selling and she said, “The woman had triplets and this is just too much for her now. Also, the kids are allergic to everything.” The word allergic jumped out at me. It matched my suspicions of mold. I wondered if this was a subconscious “slip” by the realtor? Were the children allergic or reacting to the mold?

Then I started looking around the kitchen and I saw water stains above the cabinets. The realtor quickly explained they had an ice damn. I didn’t believe her story because ice damns usually effect the story where the gutters and roof are first, not the second story down unless they are really severe.

When I went upstairs to the second story and saw the lovely porch overlooking the pool and backyard, I could clearly see a builder made some fundamental mistakes in building the roof and deck area, and that is what caused the leaking. There was flat roll roofing and and the posts when right into the roofing. The flat roof design had major flaws and was caulked all over. Hello! The entire roof area and railing were put in by someone who had no idea what they were doing. This was likely the cause of many of the water issues that had now dried up under what I would call temporary fixes. But I couldn’t help but wonder what mold still lurked in the walls, waiting to come alive after a few showers…

Visually, the house was just beautiful. It had vaulted 9 to 12 foot ceilings, bamboo floors and looked like a pricey loft from the inner city of Chicago. It had two balconies, a whirlpool tub. It was everything anyone would want for a second home. Visually, it was a great buy. The reator even told us it was $20,000 less than what they paid for it, which with the economy lately, could happen.

The entire house had a upscale appeal. It was clear the original owners had expensive taste, but likely built this place on a budget, as it was their second home. That in and of itself wouldn’t scare me. It was the black shower, and what the realtor said that put me into caution mode.

While I was upstairs, the realtor told my mom that two sisters and their parents owned this home, and that they came up every weekend. This clearly tells us the “triple story” was just another “story“. That wouldn’t stop the other sister and parents from enjoying this place more, would it? Also, if three related families owned this home, wouldn’t that make taking triplets all that much easier?

We went back to the neighborhood over the weekend, and despite what the realtor said about them being there every weekend, there was no one there. When I told my husband what my mom said about them being there every weekend, he said, “What a joke!” Is she nuts? I looked in the cabinets and there are no dishes whatsoever in the kitchen anywhere. No one comes up there every weekend.”

I remembered, too, there was only one bed in the house on the main floor. There were no beds in any of the other bedrooms. They were vacant.

Isn’t it amazing how facts can give away a lie? This realtor tried hard, but failed miserably. She really shot her own foot when you think about it.

When I talked to my mom a second time, she said, “Oh yeah, the realtor also said when we were looking at the house, ‘Yeah, the previous owners bought this house from a builder, but they haven’t been able to locate him.”

That realtor, I think without even knowing it, is subconsciously sabotaging herself with this house. She is trying to sell something she doesn’t believe in, and does it ever show, even if only subconsciously. Is she ever wasting her time or what?

So many people when they lie never add up the facts to see if their lie will fly. It’s almost funny, in hindsight.

The Furnace Saga

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Yesterday afternoon, the furnace company sent out two service guys to try to get to the bottom of our leak because the owner couldn’t resolve it on his emergency visit on Sunday night. None of their detectors were picking up on our problem; however, our detector kept going off with stellar precision.

It was a sight to see these two guys, one of them middle-aged, around 50, and another in his 30s, come into my basement with me home alone. They thought for sure they were going to end this matter simply because I was a woman, and uneducated in the science of gases and furnaces. Too bad for them, they didn’t know I am great at reading body language and I know when I am being lied to, or attempted to be fooled with. I knew by the way the owner left the night before, he was convinced I didn’t have a problem, my detector was flawed, and he or his employees were going to convince me of that fact one way or another.

Read moreI showed the guys in, let them test for the leak with their equipment, and then when their equipment didn’t go off, I asked them for the technical specifics of their tester, as I showed them mine. Lo and behold, they didn’t know. So I educated them on average statistical facts about gas detectors and told them they likely had a tester less sensitive than mine (LEL 10%). You can imagine it didn’t go over well. They didn’t say a word.

They quickly grabbed my detector and started going over the room. When my unit hit on a dime, each time over their furnace near where the gas line entered, they were annoyed. It was palpable. They couldn’t explain it. They knew the owner had changed the union three times and all three times my detector picked up a leak, so they were just certain my detector was flawed, but how were they going to convince me?

I asked them if they brought a carbon monoxide detector, and they told me they didn’t know they needed one. What a nightmare. I personally suspect the owner didn’t suspect carbon monoxide, and when he couldn’t blame the water heater on me, because I told him it would still be part of his contractual obligation, he decided not to focus on that anymore.

The second thing these two guys did was bubble test the unions from the night before. They didn’t see any bubbles, but I could see they couldn’t see behind the union, because it was in a tight enclosure on both sides, so I asked if they had a mirror. They did not. It pissed them off even more. How could they be sure it wasn’t leaking then, I asked? “We can see all sides, and there are no bubbles,” the younger man said. I stood and watched.

Getting frustrated, I wasn’t the uneducated housewife they had hoped for, they both put their backs to me and started scouring the room with my detector. I knew exactly what they were up to. They were going to find another leak, they thought, because my detector was so sensitive. They were sure they could blame it on something else, even though there was clearly a leak at the site of their new furnace. It was funny to watch. It was ridiculous.

They tested all our old gas unions and values. I was confident they wouldn’t find anything, as we had done it all already. Nothing. They then tested the rest of their work, and nothing, at which point I reminded them, it was a good indication my unit performed perfectly. They couldn’t blame my detector for being faulty at that point. They stood there, with their backs to me, dumbfounded, sharing glances at each other, not acknowledging me. If only you could have been a fly on the wall. It was priceless. I knew exactly what was going on.

So the guy covers the detector with his hands, and it goes off. He turns around and comes right up to my face. He says, “See, anything will set this thing off. It’s not dependable.”

I quickly corrected him. “Actually, no, you emit carbon dioxide,” I said, “and that is what is setting off the detector. It picks up on carbon dioxide and monoxide. Breathe on it. You’ll see, it will go off.”

You should have seen them slump. They weren’t doing a good job of convincing me, and they knew it! I just smiled back, politely.

Frustrated, they put their backs to me again, all the while exchanging what they believed to be non-obvious eye-rolls. They are thinking hard, how can they convince me, it is my detector. I continue to watch intently, wondering what the next thing will be.

Then the older guy pipes up and says, “I know! It’s picking up on the bubble liquid that we just used.” He quickly opens up the bubble soap, and the alarm goes off.

“See, this machine isn’t reliable,” he says to me.

I grin and say, “Not so fast. The owner was here last night, and it alarmed over his unions, and there was NO bubble soap used then. Sorry, that’s not it. He even tested his pipe dope/teflon. It didn’t go off. It’s obviously picking up on a gas, perhaps alcohol (which it is rated for), but not the gas we are looking for.”

If looks could kill…

They turned their back to me a third time, and they continued looking around the room. Within a minute, I see one flash a grin to the other. They must really have thought I was clueless. Next, I see the older guy go to our sewer lift station, and put my detector there. It alarms slightly, very slightly and as he goes up the pipes, the alarm gets more intense.

“Of course it will alarm when you go up, ” I speak out. “Natural gas is lighter than air. We have a natural gas leak. We’ve pinpointed that already. No surprise there. I’m telling you, my unit works flawlessly.”

Without even acknowledging me, the guy then goes to the bathroom vent pipe, and my unit ticks faster there, and it slowly goes into an alarm. He is about ready to turn around and say to me, “See. This is your problem. This is leaking, and this is causing the problem.”

It was absolutely rubbish, and I knew it on multiple levels. While my detector picks up on multiple gases, it is easy to figure out. So I don’t give him a chance. I say to them as they are exchanging glances between themselves again, and still have their backs to me, thinking they are going to pull the wool over my eyes, “Of course it is going off, you are picking up hints of methane. That’s to be expected. You’re testing the plumbing pipes. I may have a leaky vent pipe, but we are dealing with gas, so let’s stay focused.”

Their body language tenses.

It is clear that they getting mad at me. I know they want to tell me to go to hell. I stood there wondering how often these service guys and all the other workers who have come to me over the years get away with their B.S. at other homes. I can only tell you from the reactions I get by calling people out, they must get away with this behavior frequently at other homes, because when I am done with most of these guys, they don’t know what hit them. They’ve never experienced anything like me before. I can see the bewilderment in their eyes once I get everything resolved.

Totally frustrated, the guys come up to me and say, “If our detector doesn’t detect a leak, you don’t have a leak. Period.”

I quickly remind them that my whole house was alarming the other night, that this problem is much larger than than a faulty tester. I explained if my whole house didn’t test positive and react appropriately to the airing out steps we took, I might consider it is my detector, but in light of that, they were wrong and needed to get to the heart of the matter. I confirmed I know my detector works like a charm.

They turned around, totally hopeless, and didn’t know what to do. Then one got a call from the owner, and walked outside, and then the other excused himself up the driveway. They ran into my husband and gave him the lousy excuse, because they forgot their CO detector, they were going to go to Home Depot to buy a wall unit by Night Hawk with a readout. They’d be right back. My husband told them not to, this wasn’t about CO, it was about natural gas. They ignored him and left anyway. I was not surprised at all. It was just so unprofessional. They wanted to get away from me! That was clear.

The problem with having the ability that I have is that I can keep people on the straight and narrow, like I did above, but finally, they don’t know how to cope and they just bolt. And that is exactly what these two men did. I immediately called the company secretary and told her to tell them not to bother with the CO detector as that was useless. We didn’t hear from the furnace company the rest of the day.

Clearly, these guys couldn’t figure out the problem and had hoped to put the blame on my ignorance, but it didn’t work.

Frustrated, we called the local gas company, because we could smell slight hints of gas. The gas guy came out, and within 10 minutes, we pinpointed the leak. When the gas company worker took off the sealed burner cover on the furnace, my husband ran our detector over the values at the same time, and nothing! We then knew the leak we were detecting was coming from the values inside the furnace and out over the union, which was supposed to be sealed. The gas company confirmed it, and wrote up a report for us. The leak is minor, but there.

Today, I immediately called the furnace corporate customer service number and asked if this area on our furnace should be sealed where the gas line enters the closed chamber, as I suspect it should be and she said “Absolutely”.

Today, we called the owner and told him to get out here tonight and fix it! He now says it all makes sense to him, and he understands why our detector was picking up gas. He suspects it is a value that is leaking. This guy probably thought I was a nut job Sunday night. I wonder what he thinks of me today…

Off Topic: Worn Out

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Remember I had a gas leak (three) that were found in November due to my good nose? And just a few weeks ago, we had a carbon monoxide leak, and replaced our furnace?

Well, I had bugged my husband twice after the furnace was installed (part fear, part intuition?) to test it again. I asked him the day after the install, and the following weekend, twice. I honestly did have a nagging feeling, but kept writing it off because I figured I was just sensitive and afraid after all we had been through.

I hit the couch last night early after a light day, and I was so exhausted, I couldn’t keep my eyes open. It was 6:30 PM. By 9:00 PM, my husband said let’s go to bed early. My dog was stone cold out when my husband picked her up. We went to bed. I laid there and thought this is spring, when I usually am bouncing off the walls. What’s up with me? I was mad and annoyed. Is it stress from an upheaval month? Or is it something else?

Read moreWhen my husband came upstairs, I said, “Please go run the meter and test everything again. Please?” After hearing me ask four times now since the furnace guy left, and having heard me ask him multiple times before we discovered the previous carbon monoxide leak, this time, for whatever reason, he leaped into action.

As soon as he calibrated the hand held tester, and walked in the front door –wham! The alarm blared. We reset it, aired out the first floor and did it again. It didn’t go off until we held it at the floor in an area that didn’t draft. As we went downstairs, it alarmed again. It went off the highest in our utility room, and at the furnace.

We had had enough. We called the furnace guy, who didn’t show up until 10:30, and he was here until well past midnight. He found two gas leaks from his crew’s work!! And after refitting them several times, he was unable to get a good seal. They never freak’n pressure tested the gas lines after they moved them. We are still detecting a very small leak.

Can I scream?

Now the guy is coming out today because he fears the water heater may not be getting enough draft to vent properly now that the furnace has moved. I’ve done my homework now, after the fact, and he should have done calculations and done a back-draft test which he never did. And if the venting wasn’t sufficient, he should have installed a smaller chimney liner. That was all part of why I hired this guy, and this work, if necessary, is still part of our original contract obligations!

I’m in for a long day.

I’m just worn out with this stuff. I need a break, don’t you think?

I highly recommend this gas detector we bought.