My last post was titled ‘Waiting‘, and was posted just over a month ago, on Easter Eve. When I wrote it, we were waiting for Easter Day. I thought I would perhaps have a few days off the discipline of writing six days out of seven, and then return with gusto. Or at least with a few things to say.
I had not factored in toothache in a pandemic.
By the end of Easter weekend I was talking to the emergency dentist and taking ibuprofen and paracetamol every two hours, then I was taking antibiotics. And then it was two trips to the PPE bedecked dentist, and now I am half a molar and a couple of nerves down, and still on a smidge of ibuprofen. And it’ll be a trip to the dental hospital after lockdown. Joy.
Other than toothache we have been managing pretty well the last month. Online services have continued with increasing technical sophistication – homemade music videos – multiple people reciting consecutive verse of a psalm. DVDs have been delivered to the internetless, telephone and Zoom counselling has taken place. The Archdeacon has phoned. The kids have done at least a few minutes of school and uni work. A small amount of gardening has been achieved. And the dust reached such a depth that I even resorted to breaking out a can of furniture polish.
And I celebrated our silver wedding anniversary by having a nerve removed from my tooth. For richer, for poorer, for better, for worse, in lockdown, in sickness, with toothache and in health, I’m still glad to be the Vicar’s Wife.
The Vicar's Wife 