Damn you and your signs. Also, your incredibly thoughtful/insightful list text messages (thank you).
The dentist went...as dentists do.
I was scheduled for a two part visit; x-rays/cleaning, and then consultation/treatment plan. Only half of those things were accomplished.
For some nonsense insurance reasons (that I failed to listen to), I cannot do two things on the same day at the dentist. So thing one, x-rays/cleaning was completed today, and I'm forced to go back in two weeks for the second half, consultation/treatment plan. (Insert look of intense displeasure here.)
The woman who cleaned my teeth was super nice.
She took a million x-rays and confirmed that I had some cavities. (Or at least, that's what I took away from our conversation. Who knows what she really may have told me, I was just waiting for her to start ripping out my teeth.) We were unable to determine where my previous fillings may have been, though we both had our suspicions, and she told me my teeth are not chipped up or generally destroyed as I (still) rather firmly believe. She also said my teeth look amazing for not having been to the dentist in more than a decade, and that the 'cavity' in my front tooth probably isn't a cavity at all. She may have actually said that it definitely isn't a cavity, but I remain unconvinced and refuse to remember her saying any such nonsense.
I have yet to check to see if the spot remains post-cleaning. Mostly because I'm stubborn. But also, because I am lazy.
She numbed up my all my gums (without needles!), and because I can't hold still to save my life, also my lips and tongue before she started cleaning my teeth. This was probably due to my insane ramblings with the receptionist about my fears regarding tooth harvesting and/or my mouth shattering. At any rate, I appreciated it, and I didn't feel a damn thing.
I had, however, forgotten how much I loathe having a numb tongue.
It is a lot.
I loathe it a lot.
I thought of you and your severed hamburger tongue while trying to talk with mine all drugged up on anesthetic. How you willed yourself through that I will never know. Just the thought of trying to eat with my tongue feeling all drunk and alien makes me suicidal.
Anywho, my teeth were clean in no time. None of them shattered, and all of them remained in my mouth. However, I did not have my consultation with the dentist yet, so there is still time for things to go awry.
I also got a goodie bag from the dentist, which I did not open until I got home. Everything inside of it is purple, which is witchcraft, and I just KNOW you're going to say is a sign. Damn you. Damn you all the days.
You and your signs.
All my love,
A still toothed LittleFoot.
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Tuesday, August 20, 2013
Dentist
(Totally glossing over my 3 week absence...)
Today, (in the midst of what has to be the darkest week of my life) I was standing the bathroom at work, staring (as I often do) at the cavity forming on the back of one of my teeth.
My teeth are a source of great stress for me.
I've never really taken very good care of them. I brush much less than I should, and with a lazy half-assed sort of attitude. I grind my teeth continually. All day. All night. I clench my jaw shut as tight as possible when I'm scared or stressed or angry or trying to concentrate. I chew on hard objects nearly every minute of every day. It's usually the usual suspects: my nails, pens, pencils, paperclips. But also other things like marbles or rocks, though I actively try not to do that these days. As a result my teeth are all chipped up, fractured, worn down, and generally abused.
Add to this the fact that the fallout from one of the spiteful and dramatic fights I so often had with my dear, sweet, father sometime in early 2000, was a solemn vow that I would never, ever go to the dentist again. The details of this fight, and what precipitated it, are lost to time, but it is one of the few fights that both my dad and I viscerally remember. It was epic, in both scale and magnitude. And true to form, I have not been to the dentist since.
Now, the cavity in my tooth is not news to me. It is totally and completely painless, but I have been aware of it for at least eight months now. I stare at it from time to time, trying to discern if it is getting bigger, or trying to guess how long I have until it finally starts to hurt.
Today however, for whatever terrible reason, I decided to do something about it.
Before I knew what had happened I had made a series of phone calls, and set up an appointment.
For tomorrow.
No good can come of this.
Currently I am convinced this can either go one of two ways:
1. I go to the dentist and he pulls out all of my teeth and puts them into other peoples mouths.
2. I go to the dentist and my teeth all shatter like glass the second a dental tool touches them.
Either way, the outlook isn't good.
I miss you terribly Dear Friend. In case you've somehow missed that. Particularly right now, when life (without rhyme or reason) seems so dark and desperate. I wish you were here. Sending all my love.
Today, (in the midst of what has to be the darkest week of my life) I was standing the bathroom at work, staring (as I often do) at the cavity forming on the back of one of my teeth.
My teeth are a source of great stress for me.
I've never really taken very good care of them. I brush much less than I should, and with a lazy half-assed sort of attitude. I grind my teeth continually. All day. All night. I clench my jaw shut as tight as possible when I'm scared or stressed or angry or trying to concentrate. I chew on hard objects nearly every minute of every day. It's usually the usual suspects: my nails, pens, pencils, paperclips. But also other things like marbles or rocks, though I actively try not to do that these days. As a result my teeth are all chipped up, fractured, worn down, and generally abused.
Add to this the fact that the fallout from one of the spiteful and dramatic fights I so often had with my dear, sweet, father sometime in early 2000, was a solemn vow that I would never, ever go to the dentist again. The details of this fight, and what precipitated it, are lost to time, but it is one of the few fights that both my dad and I viscerally remember. It was epic, in both scale and magnitude. And true to form, I have not been to the dentist since.
Now, the cavity in my tooth is not news to me. It is totally and completely painless, but I have been aware of it for at least eight months now. I stare at it from time to time, trying to discern if it is getting bigger, or trying to guess how long I have until it finally starts to hurt.
Today however, for whatever terrible reason, I decided to do something about it.
Before I knew what had happened I had made a series of phone calls, and set up an appointment.
For tomorrow.
No good can come of this.
Currently I am convinced this can either go one of two ways:
1. I go to the dentist and he pulls out all of my teeth and puts them into other peoples mouths.
2. I go to the dentist and my teeth all shatter like glass the second a dental tool touches them.
Either way, the outlook isn't good.
I miss you terribly Dear Friend. In case you've somehow missed that. Particularly right now, when life (without rhyme or reason) seems so dark and desperate. I wish you were here. Sending all my love.
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