As good as it gets

My husband glanced over at me and asked if I was OK. How does one answer such a simple question that is asked again and again with great concern and love. Suffering from Gaucher disease and Parkinson's, mother nature decided in her wisdom to add the menopause into the equation, and to top it off the other day, visiting the dentist, I ended up having a root canal. We have the nicest dentist who is gentle with a great bedside manner, not to mention is highly skilled, but  as much as we love him, I'd rather not need to visit him quite so often, especially when I find I need a root canal. I have always cleaned my teeth diligently twice a day, floss and use mouth wash, but come what may, I always seem to need work done on my teeth. I guess a large part is down to one's DNA. You either inherit good teeth, or like me are cursed with on-going problems despite taking the greatest of care.

 As a young child, I was always told off at school for talking too much and I would receive a short whack on the knuckles with a wooden ruler from the teacher. I guess the day I stop talking it's time to get really worried! Even whilst I was in the dentist chair, after just having an injection that made half of my face numb, with gauze swabs tucked inside my mouth, I still managed to talk and tell a funny story to the dentist making him laugh!

So in-between pain killers for Gaucher bone pain, Parkinson's medications, hot flashes as if a volcano suddenly decides to erupt inside me, to add insult to injury, I now have to eat soft food for the next few days having a rather sore mouth. I ask myself is this as good as it gets?