Its hard to update a blog when you sit with an empty head for where its located. So, here I am. I’m found, again. I can’t wait to move on. Forgot is no longer on my mind. I’ll be back soon. <3
Entries by CarolinaDreamz
There was a very mean dentist on El Cajon Blvd that we could take the bus to. In my opinion, he NEVER should have treated children.
After my adult front tooth grew in cracked, with the bottom half missing (disintegrated inside the gum) I was abruptly told “that isn’t possible” multiple times. I felt like saying “ok. then I’m a liar.” LOL
I think I was eight when I had my first root canal. Looking at it on film now you can see what a botched job it was. All of my other root canal’s are pristine.. the front tooth root canal looks like he just dug a bunch of tissue out of it and filled it in with filing material.
The root canal procedure was very painful and I cried while the dentist yelled at me to shut up and told me it didn’t hurt, through the whole thing.
Less than one week later, my face swelled up, around my nose, and I had a huge abscess where this root canal had been done. My grandma took me to an oral surgeon, on the bus, and they cut open my mouth to remove gauze that had been left in the bottom of my root canal area.
After this horrible experience, I no longer had to go see Nazi dentist.. we found a wonderful new dentist, Michael Mahaffey, near Grandma’s house, in Linda Vista. I saw Dr. Mahaffey for 14 years, until I moved away from San Diego. One time, when I was supposed to be preparing for my senior pictures, he asked me about them and I told him there was no way I was taking them with the way my front tooth looked. It had been filled to resemble a real tooth but it was two different colors.
To my surprise, and out of his own pocket, before we finished my filling that day, he bonded the tooth, so it was all one color and I could schedule my senior photos. He was *that* kind of man and I appreciated him.
After I left San Diego, I saw two other dentists. One in Florida and one in South Carolina. I was very nervous and anxious and dentistry and I were not getting along real well. I had heard of people being sedated or given sedation type medication but when I asked I was always told no. The front office would remind me to bring a driver when I was on *that* medication the doctor said I couldn’t have, though. That was disturbing.
So, I stopped going to the dentist for about one year. And I cracked a back molar, on a simple piece of soft cereal. Off to the office I went, with this emergency, to see the first available dentist. That was the day I met Jason. We are dental partners. He takes very good care of me.
When I was 4-5, we (grandma and grandpa and Gabe and I, I think. there were a lot of bodies so maybe my younger aunts too) moved to a two room cabin.
Grandpa built a cage in the back yard and we had a few rabbits. We also always had a cage of parakeets inside. We had two dogs and one was called Sherry I think. Sherry used to answer the phone when we weren’t home and just bark at the caller. My great grandma told us that all she could hear was the dog barking.
This was the time that I became a weekend rehab kid. I had to go visit my mother at the rehab center, and make these leather crafts every Saturday. I was always amazed at how big these houses were and all the strange people around.. that was my thoughts while I was mostly bored. They had a big board/schedule with duties on it and I remember thinking how wonderfully organized they were there. I did not enjoy these visits. I didn’t understand why my mother couldn’t come home with us. It was always just a full day, every week, that ended in disappointment.
It was while we lived in the cabin that I got into my bicycle accident. My Aunt Cynthia and I were riding bikes around town and went up this hill, above our cabin. As we started on the way down, she was yelling at me to not use my brakes and I thought she was saying to use my brakes. The bicycle rattled out of control and fell into a small cement ravine. I remember being very hurt, in the hospital, with a cut lip and bruised and bloody elbows and knees. I knocked my front tooth loose during this accident and when it finally fell out, the permanent tooth grew in chipped diagonally. (This was the start of my Nazi dentist hell.. next post.)
There was a terrible incident that caused great sorrow in our classroom. We read about it in the newspaper. A man in our community was murdered in cold blood, in his barn. I don’t recall that they ever knew who did this to him. His youngest daughter was in my kindergarten classroom, at school, though. The girl never returned to school. I think the family moved away, but I don’t know where they moved to.
Some of my happier memories, in the cabin, were making home-made play dough, with Alum, with Grandma. We always made many colors and had such great fun with this simple recipe that I wish I sill had today.
Just down the road, from the cabin, and probably the reason we moved to the cabin, Grandma and Grandpa had a plant shop. It was a small family garden center. We planted seeds and people purchased seedlings, from us. We potted smaller plants and sold them as bigger plants. Every weekend we had a booth at the Swap Meet, in east county. I remember the swap meet’s being long and boring, hot days. I remember the nursery being soothing. I would ask Grandma to write words onto notebook paper, in cursive, and I would trace over them. She never seemed to bore of my asking. I can attribute much of my own writing style to hers and my mother’s.
Our neighbors in the end cabin, were the Obermeiers. I sure miss them.
Before I was four, I was back living with my grandparents. They owned a home in La Mesa on Skyline Drive. We lived on a corner, with a huge tall yellow war siren. There were weekly siren tests that used to make me cry so bad, that one time I took my turtle Charlie, and my mud pies and went and got into my bed. My aunts were babysitting and they didn’t know what to do with all the mud.
Oh, btw, I don’t think Charlie ran away, like I was told. I’ll never believe that.
This house was unique. It had a step-down family room and that didn’t work too well with my tv tray on wheels that I was using as a shopping cart. I would play shop around the house and then I guess grandma would put all the stuff back, because I don’t remember that part. haha.
Every time Gabe went to visit “his dad” and “Grandma Mary,” they brought back and gift for me, too.
This time, it was around Gabe’s 3rd birthday, I think, because I got this Big Bird transistor radio from Daddy and I got this really cool habit trail race car for my hamster that lived at Grandma’s house.
I had spent the last weekend or so alone, without my brother and that left me with many questions.
Why didn’t I go to Grandma Mary’s anymore? Why didn’t Daddy have me over for the weekend anymore? Why was my last name different on my medical stickers than on my school records?
I was only seven years old, but I remember sitting on the front porch step wondering all these things, as I tried to remember the way Great Grandma had taught me how to pray about things.
When my mother’s shock wore off, about my questions, she sat down and explained to me that my biological father was her first husband and his name was Michael Jeffers. I remember being relieved that I wasn’t crazy. I didn’t feel hurt.
From that year on, though, every time a new phone book was delivered we looked to see if he was in it. His parents always were but he wasn’t.. there is was, every year, Dunbar Lane.
Kenny (Gabe’s dad) and Gabe’s Grandma Mary never sent nor gave me another gift. I guess to them, their obligation to me had ended. For me, as a kid, I though it was just sad and mean.
For the first ten years of my life, I lived on a mint flavored antibiotic for bladder, urinary tract infections. I had many kidney problems and when I didn’t have an infection, I had to take maintenance levels of this horrible mint flavored medication. I only had to take it once a day when I didn’t have an infection, but until I was 21, every urinary analysis returned positive.
This horrible mint flavor has interrupted any enjoyment I’d have with gums or tooth paste. Tooth paste is the worst. Most mints make me gag.
When I was pregnant, with all three children, I had to take multiple blood sugar tests. The orange flavored carbonated sweet drink they make you drink, is enough to make me want to throw up, even if I can’t do it. Its just that gross to me. It has ruined me for orange soda and orange slurpee’s. Small sacrifice.
One time I was at the pharmacy, at the Naval Hospital, San Diego. I was waiting on a prescription to be filled. A lady approached me and asked if I was the “Heidi that lived in North Park, ” near her street (the main street to school, that has slipped my mind, at the moment.)
I was so shocked. How could she know that I used to live there?
She said she saw my shirt when I was in line. The shirt had a photo of Tim and I and our names on it. We had them made at the Fair.
She said I was the only girl named Heidi that she had ever known. I asked her if she was married and she said “no.”
I was confused why she was there to get an rx. She said she was still a dependent of her dad. We talked for a few minutes about her dad. I didn’t know he was active duty. I was raised with a single mother and seeing her without a dad was not unusual to me. I do remember her dad at a birthday party over there. But, I never considered her having a dad that was just underway and out to sea so often that I never saw him.
I used to go to Lynn and her sister’s house every morning, before school. I would sit on the sofa while they finished getting ready for school. They ate hot cereal a lot. Their mom would cool it with the hair dryer. I though that was creative.
Lynn said something to me, that night, that I keep remembering. She said she mostly remembers that I used to cry a lot.
Thinking back I could have cried that their mom was even up with them in the morning. Their mom was the only mom I knew in the early morning before school. My mom didn’t get up with me to get ready for school. She would set an alarm and wake me up, but she always went back to bed and I got ready to go on my own.
I don’t remember crying all the time. But I know that I did cry a lot during that period of my life.. so it makes sense to me. I just found it ironic that that is all she recalled about me.
I’ve always felt that I’ve lived my life in a serious yet strange void. Like driving on the interstate, in a section where only you reside.. the cars in front of you are a good distance, but together, and the cars behind you are in the same type group, together, yet a good distance behind you.. driving in your own void.
I’ve lived my entire life being some type of challenge, good or bad. I was never one to “go with the flow.” I just, usually, created my own flow. I didn’t fit in, so I made my own rules and my own games and my own non-reality for sanity. It has made me a difficult friend. Or rather, I couldn’t find a friend that would be as equally devoted as I was willing to be. It was how I learned that most people are selfish and think of their own #1 first. I don’t. I am okay with that most of the time.
I’ve always done the best that I could do, in the places that I could, and in the places that I couldn’t, I usually cried. Seriously. Cried. I don’t find crying a bad thing, but I don’t find it easy to really cry, anymore, either. Its easier to stay on the top of an emotion than to get buried into one, and have to climb out of it. I guess that makes me too lazy to get too emotionally invested in myself.
This project to write my life story is a huge challenge. I’m not sure if I’m capable of writing it, but I’m going to just dig in one post at a time and see what comes out of my fingers. ~Heidi