If you’ve been following my plurks or tweets lately, you know I’ve spent several weeks in pain from an unexplained ankle problem. I realized the ankle pain was serious when I was in the dentist’s chair getting work done. Yes, the dentist.

I’m a wimpy dental patient – the kind who wants every kind of painkiller and relaxant available. Our dentist is kind and understanding. He doesn’t call me a wimp; he says “We want you to be comfortable. Would you like some tylenol before we start, too?” And then the assistant hooks up the nitrous oxide and I take a deep breath.

Back to the ankle. I was breathing in the nitrous and relaxing, finding a focal point on the ceiling (Lamaze style), and realized with a Woodstock-style tone “Wow, my ankle doesn’t hurt. For the first time in a week, my ankle feels good.” This thought was followed by my logical self saying “Wow, that’s not good. Self, call the doctor when you get home.”

Two weeks later: The ankle still hurts, but the teeth are doing great. No pain, easy cleaning, and the final crowns go on in next month. The dental assistants are really good at giving practical advice, too. They show me how to brush better, how to floss, and how to make sure the temporary crowns stay in place until the final pieces go in. Somehow, they’re polite and professional and non-judgmental the whole time.

Now if only I could get rid of this ankle/foot pain as easily….