A visit to the Dentist on a shoestring (or less)

Last Tuesday I embarked on a journey to get my tooth fixed.
I packed a bag and set off impulsively by foot. I had to reach my friend in the next city, so he could give me a ride to a city even further away, to save hitching all the way there and back. Afterall I d booked an appointment with my dentist for Wednesday. I just hadn’t yet been sure how I was to cross the 250km to get there.

On the walk down, a neighbour picked me up after about ten minutes. I told him I was going to pick up a new car battery. I then walked 20 minutes the the last highway exit in town. I hitched for about 10 minutes when an electrician picked me and took me over half the way to the city where my friend was working that day. He’s told me he was leaving for the final destination that afternoon so I was keen to get there quickly.

The next ride took longer to stop, but stop he did and dropped me off where I could walk into city R.
I walked down the sloping road, with a weight of my shoulders; I hadn’t found my friend, but hitch hiking was probably over.
In city R., as if by a miracle I reached the square which I identified as central directly. I waited on tenterhooks, hoping that my friend would call and hadn’t just left.
It was as I decided to cut my losses and walked back to the highway to hitch hike further that my friend finally called. He was close by. I was so happy and relieved to see him.
That night we drove to the city where the dentist is and my friend let me share his hotel room. The disjunct and contradiction of my hobo style and the plush, neat hotel room was odd!
I was in city C. the night before my appointment like  a good girl. I could rise at leisure the following day and walk to the dentist at noon.

This is the only dentist I feel I can ask for some time before sending him the money for the procedure, and I was unwilling to be seen with as gap where the 4th tooth from the middle was meant to be for much longer. I’m broke, but I maintain standards!

I figured out the road where the surgery was, but a little way off I got anxious I wouldn’t find it on time, and asked to use a phone at a pharmacy as I had no cell phone credit. They were very kind and helped me.

I was just 30 doors away!

Fortunately my dentist entered after me, so I wasn’t forced speak to him  in front of his dad, who is also a dentist, and their secretary.
He is so kind, he had no problem whatsoever!

He did a great job and my journey’s goal had been reached.

I spent the next 2 days in city C. with my friend during his gaps in work, until he would drive back to our hometown. I would share his salads (I wouldn’t order for myself despite his offers), and we drank wine. We aren’t even so close; we’ve known each other about a year.

Fortunately I had the sanctuary of the hotel room when I received the devastating news (in an email) that my boss-to-be cancelled our employment arrangement, just 2 weeks before I was set to start. I wallowed in a brief depression, and simultaneously started job applications again.

Today there’s some hope again already; but hope is all I’ve been leaving off for 14 months now.

Thank goodness that in a place like this, one can rely on friends and genuine, giving people.

Larder Empty

It seems best at this point to fast.
If I didn’t come to this decision, I would doubtlessly resort to ‘fressen’ or grazing, on biscuits and even more carbs than hitherto.
Lack of funds leads to an imbalanced diet, and rather than resort to that, if it’s even possible anyway, is to resist eating much at all for the next 2 weeks or so.
As I don’t have access to fresh vegetables, fruit and pulses which make up my normal diet, I’d best not fall into the trap of eating just anything at all (except of course meat!), as it will compromise my weight.
This would be one of the ways poor people get fatter than the affluent.

Whether I can pull it off remains to be seen; hunger is a headstrong fellow that will go to extremes to get his way.

In any case I can eat what’s left of the good stuff:- a a handful of rice and green lentils, the rest of a yoghurt pot. I would go dumpster diving if I were in the centre- maybe I will next time I’m down there.

Pater ‘personality disorder’

As it’s customary to put away the most irritating aspects of others’ behaviour, that can also be hurtful, out of mind, it cannot subsequently become difficult to piece together their irritating traits. 
This makes hard to form patterns, and I’m sorry to have to say justify why they’re so irksome to us.

My father today was reminiscing: “We used to ask our mother if she had any desserts made. She’s reply ‘I don’t have a single thing, not for live nor money’, to which the middle brother would reply…”
Middle brother?  You can mention him by his name you know [he is after all my uncle, albeit late uncle].
So he mentions his name and continues…”Do I have to lay down and die for want of a dessert’ he would tease her. There was always a sweet to be found hiding somewhere. The eldest brother was not her weakness, but”
There he goes again. It’s as if he thinks I have another family somewhere and that his family consists of memebers of his generation and above; I wouldn’t possibly recognise my own uncle’s name!
The truth is I have 7 living blood relatives, which is few compared to others, so do treat me like an outsider who probably won’t remember her uncles’ names adds salt to the lack/dearth.
Even if, say, they were distant relatives, I would like to think myself intelligent enough to remember their names, so either way I can’t fathom how irrelevant he sees his own daughter.

Yesterday  he mentioned a case of estranged siblings of which he knew; they were friends of his who werent speaking to each other anymore. Did this set any alarm bells off? Not a bit; despite the fact my sister and I aren’t speaking, he thought it a funny story to tell about two siblings that aren’t in contact, and hasn’t once brought up the issue of his two daughters not speaking. He’s just come back from a visit to one sister and is living with the other. If he were to admit he has cognitive issues or is emotional not there it would be easier for me.

In a week, if I carry on living here, he will soon start his antics of ignoring me and not speaking to me for days. It’s only because he was recently re-socialised abroad, through his vacation, that he’s treating me humanely.

He can be as pleasant as he likes now, but I am the one who remembers his previous, horrible, horrible, behaviour.
His default position is to look for an individual to blame, other than himself, or an inanimate object. It is rare that even if in a good mood, he doesn’t automatically blame me for something missing, or something broken. It’s a reflection of his obsessive rants over his co worker, on to whom he projected everything negative about the company, and every problem in his non-family life. Now that he’s retired, the co worker isn’t the there to point his finger at, so as the only other constant proximate in his life, I have to take the brunt.

He was under the impression that he spent last Christmas alone, despite the great lengths (under the circumstances) I went to, to make it remotely festive for him.
He had also forgotten that I was there when he inexplicably got paralitically drunk about a year ago, despite the sleepless night, the worry and fret I was put through, not sure whether he’d make it through the night. I need no show of appreciation, or an attitude of gratefulness even, but I but I would expect someone to remember I was there supporting him, not getting a wink of sleep all night while he groans away.

Him not remembering he ignored my emails for months on end, effectively staging a boycott on me and then not realising it, as it turns out: again, I am left with an estranged father for nearly a year while he doesn’t know a thing about it, despite the fact he’s enacted it.

I need to simply get out of here.

If anyone at all acknowledge his memory problems, especially him, I would be appeased and understanding, but his lack of memory allows him to treat me as he likes, remembering or imagining my character as he likes depending on his mood. Then when he goes abroad, he magically springs out of it, and is rational again- I’ve just got adapt apparently and forget the injustice of him treating me like s**t for months. To act as if everything’s fine and as if my confidence, sense of self worth my mood and integrity weren’t seriously compromised during his day-, or month-long, ‘black outs’ (I believe it’s actually his true character revealing itself).