Most of this week was spent being apprehensive about the oral surgery I endured this morning. The gum around one of my teeth is the consistency of one of those Listerine PocketPal sheets so the periodontist informed me that he'd need to remove skin from my soft palate and graft it around my tooth, with the help of two assistants and a bazillion stitches, some of which will self-dissolve but the rest will need to be manually removed in another office visit a week from now.
Yes indeed, the procedure sucked every bit as much as anticipated. The only thing that got me through it was the mp3 player I gave Monstro for Christmas. Oh, and about fourteen quarts of injectible Novacaine.
So I got home, iced the area, popped a Vicodin and a fistful of Advil (a Clint Eastwood sequel coming soon!), rested for four hours, bled out the roof of my mouth, and finally felt well enough to crawl over to the computer, where I learned that 1) the woman from my Chico church who died this week was actually the parter of that church's previous pastor, a lady who retired before Monstro and I joined the congregation and 2) Scoble's mom suffered a massive stroke and is not expected to live. And suddenly, hours of gum surgery might as well have been April in Paris.
The funeral for Joan will be in Chico at our former church, and will involve the very conservative Calvary congregation where Joan's son is in the ministry, as well as our own recently reconciled congregation (reconciled to be welcoming to gays by, like, nine votes — it was a bloody battle and I refused to transfer my membership to our new church until I was able to send in a “yes, please” ballot to Chico), plus the gay community. I pray that all hearts are touched by the proceedings.
I've known Robert Scoble since Macintosh System Seven and shall pray fo them that family is able to provide the loving fellowship for one another that I'm afraid Chico might not be able to do.