
Yesterday’s root canal went far better than I expected. In fact, it was quick and almost anticlimactic. I spent more time sitting in the chair waiting for the dentist than I did actually having the procedure done—long enough, even, to finish the book I’d brought with me. That felt like a small victory in itself.
The novocain did its job without causing the usual problems. No nitrous oxide here—none of the dentists around me seem to use it—but thankfully, the numbing agent didn’t trigger a migraine this time, which is always my biggest concern. When I got home, I lay down and took a solid nap. By the time I woke up, the numbness had completely worn off.
That’s when the soreness set in. I was achy once the novocain faded, and I woke up this morning still feeling some lingering pain. It’s not unexpected, and it’s manageable, but it does mean I’m moving a little slower today and being intentional about resting, hydrating, and not pushing myself.
Unfortunately, today is still an in-office day. I have a list of things that need to get done and some catching up that can’t really wait, so in I go—even if I’d much rather be taking it easy. The small consolation is knowing that tomorrow will be a work-from-home day, which will allow me to slow down, stay comfortable, and give my body a bit more grace as it continues to recover.
I want to keep today’s post centered on that—on health, recovery, and listening to what my body needs. I know I sometimes write about politics here, and many of you may have seen the news about the tragic shooting of a woman in Minneapolis yesterday by an ICE officer. I’m too horrified and angry to say much more right now. What I will say is this: sending armed agents into cities to intimidate and terrorize civilians is not governance—it’s cruelty. And history is very clear about how “I was just following orders” has never been an acceptable excuse for crimes against humanity.
That said, today I need to pull my attention back to healing, to staying grounded, and to taking care of myself so I can show up again with clarity and strength. Some days require reflection and outrage; others require rest and recovery. Today is the latter, with a quiet acknowledgment of the former.
I hope your own day is gentler than my jaw feels at the moment—and that you’re finding space to care for yourself, too.









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