Behind the Walls

I feel incarcerated.

I had spent weeks looking forward to a long holiday weekend, of by passing the 5:30 wake up call, of organizing and cleaning the house, of a trip to the zoo, of getting out to see and photograph my musician friends - of a vacation. By no stretch of the imagination was an abscessed tooth on the itinerary and while there is no pain, the chipmunk look is not something I want to present to the public so here I stay, behind the walls, infuriated with myself and missing it all. This is time that will not come again and the loss of each passing hour grates on my nerves like chalk on a blackboard.

To fill the time, I attend to the small things that I've put off for months - bringing some order to the multiple boxes of random picture cd's, sorting through old negatives, pawing through the drawers of mismatched silverware - boring, mindless work while old movies play in the background and the animals sleep peacefully. I color my hair and iron my scrubs, throw a haphazard coat of paint on my neglected nails, look for a Stephen King to re-read. And finally, I sit at the computer and wonder if I can lessen my anger and restlessness by writing about it. This should be an opportunity, I tell myself and the screen, a time to work on accepting what I can't change. I feel like growling at the old AA wisdom simply because it's so annoyingly, persistently, and unfailingly right.

I want someone to blame - other than myself, it goes without saying - for this dismal state of affairs, yet no likely suspect steps forward. My teeth, my neglect (a glimmer of hope here when I remember that it was my mother who instilled me with my dental hygiene habits - but no, that won't work because I didn't have to choose to maintain them), my fault. It always comes from childhood, the nurse with the perfect teeth had told me with a sweet and understanding smile, All dental trauma, all fear. I think this is so, but, the small AA voice reminds me, that was a half century ago, it's time to move on.

And indeed it is. Incarcerated or not, there are still three days left to this long holiday weekend, the swelling is receding, the antibiotics have eased the pain. With any luck, I may be able to get my bridgework in long enough to make tonight's scheduled photo shoot.

Never underestimate what you can and can't change.