Diagnosis: I'm a Bag of Crazy

I can't imagine how much I annoy my mother with phone calls about weird pains and aches. Phone calls that are usually met with a heavy sigh and a reminder that it's probably indigestion and no - I'm not dying.

When I was little, I could fall off of a tree I was climbing, get a concussion and keep running around the yard none the wiser. Now, if I stub my toe, I'm convinced I have cancer. It's a funny sense of mortality that comes with age. One that where anything outside of normal is terifying.

And so I was reminded today after my return visit to the dentist to investigate a filling I had replaced earlier this week.

I left with horrible sensitivity. One that made my toes curl when I drank cold water. A pain that, sure enough, he told me would exist - and most importantly subside. But I went back - worried something had to have gone wrong. And I left with Sensodyne tooth paste.

It's peace of mind, but I bet if he could write a perscription for my stupidity, he would have.

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