California Dental Massacre…

Two entries in one day? Silliness I know, but I've got to distract myself from the pain...

I had to go to the dentist again today. She was replacing my temporary crowns with the permanent ones.

I’ve been through this a time or two…

Or five…

So I know the drill. They pop out the temp, pick off the glue, and cement down the permanent crown.

Not. A. Big. Deal.

Except this time. Apparently, my gums were inflamed and she couldn’t put a permanent crown on inflamed gums so the solution was – drill the gums down.

She called in her assistants to prepare the torture chamber – I mean – the dental appliances and started to burn time with small talk. NORMAL people consider small talk: job questions, weather patterns, family life, etc. But nooooo, my dentist starts talking about politics.

She goes on and on and on about Clinton and Obama as she starts to drill. Then, she stops drilling and looks at me seriously. ‘You are going to vote for Obama right?’ she asked.


Yeah. Right. Like I’m going to claim to be anything but a staunch democrat while you’re wielding a deadly weapon.

‘Go Obama!’ I said with a smile and a thumbs up.


I guess that’s why I don’t work for the CIA. I’d sell out the federal government to avoid an unnecessary root canal.


The dentist started in and everywhere around me looked like a scene from Braveheart. She even stopped the drilling and yelled at the assistant, ‘Go get me the…’ she started snapping in the air trying to jog her memory, ‘Get me the medication that stops the bleeding. And hurry please.’

I popped open my eyes and stared at her in complete fear. ‘Um. Excuse me? Was that supposed to make me feel better?’ is what I would have said had she not jammed a handful of gauze in my mouth.

The assistant rushed back in and filled my mouth with the most painful nasty tasting stuff ever. I’ve smelled lawn fertilizers and weed killer products that would taste better. And it burned! I felt like my mouth was on fire!

After what seemed like an eternity, she finished the crowns. She let me go rinse my mouth and…is this blood on my arm?!?! Actual DROPS of blood on my arm!?!?


Wow.


I’m just glad I didn’t tell her I was a Republican.

That could have been lethal.





Oh, and here’s an article for Colegate and Lizard:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/23018000/?GT1=10856

You ladies know how I feel about that.

But I’m alive!!

I went to the dentist today to have two crowns replaced. Don’t be jealous OK?

I’m already deathly afraid of anyone who is legally allowed to drill your teeth out (Um, hello? The horror film ‘The Dentist’ was probably based on a true story!) and today’s experience didn’t make my phobia any less present.

You see, at my ghetto dentist, you would close your eyes to prevent any water being splashed in them. At this new high tech place, they give you huge yellow foggy glasses. The giant all plastic blind old people glasses.

Totally Hot, I know.

Then, my dentist is lovely, but I didn’t appreciate her conversation with the assistant.

‘Doesn’t she have beautiful skin?’ she said while pointing at me.

‘I’d kill for her eyelashes. She should be an actress or something.’ replied the assistant.

‘Her shoes are sooooo cute!’ The dentist said, muffled by her mask.

OK, two huge problems:

1 – Please don’t talk about me like I’m at a funeral parlor and you are preparing me for a viewing. I’m alive… and despite these gi-normous glasses that cover most of my face, my ears are still fully functional. Though, if you give me one more shot of Novocain, I’m not sure how much longer they will work – but trust me, I’m willing to take the risk. Load me up.

2 – I’m on to your little game. You are trying to make me feel better by developing a ‘connection’ from compliments. Let me clarify something for you - you could say I was hotter than Claudia Schiffer and I still wouldn’t like you. It’s not personal; it’s your pain inducing drill.


I survived, but barely.

Does anyone know how many Tylenol you can take just before it becomes toxic but way after it takes the pain away?

What's next?!?!?

Last night my dogs ran away. Considering we have busy streets to the South and to the North, I wasn’t holding out that the dogs were still 3 dimensional.

This morning I checked online at the local shelters and found my dogs. I went to the shelter to find a line of only 4 people. ‘Sweet!’ I’m thinking, ‘I’ll be in and out in 10 minutes tops.’ Unfortunately those 4 people were there to adopt/claim/license/relinquish their dogs – all of which required: name, address, driver’s license, mother’s maiden name, license plate number, value of vehicle, name of father’s birth city, anticipated name of first born child (whew! At least I had THAT covered! Optimus Prime!), etc. 40 minutes and three gray hairs later, I get to the front of the line, pull out the tag numbers of my dogs, and smile expectantly.

‘How do you know these dogs are yours?’ The lady asked

‘They are the same color, gender, type of animal, type of breed, found in the same location, found on the same day as my dogs went missing, dogs. I can describe them if you want.’ I smiled.

‘You’re going to have to go out and identify them’ she said.

I go out (in the most uncomfortable shoes known to mankind I might add) and walk to the cage on the furthest reaches of the planet with the ‘Kennel Master’, look at my dogs and say, ‘Yup, those are my dogs’.

I go back inside and walk up to the lady who just sent me outside, who looks at me and says, ‘Mam, you’ll have to sign back in.’ I look behind me at the line, which was now 8 people, and wonder if crying in public is acceptable in this situation. 52 minutes later, I met with another lady who asked if I could prove the dogs were mine. I told her I could describe them perfectly and she said, ‘Did you look at the dogs?’ ‘Well, yes,’ I responded, ‘but that’s only because that other lady said I had to in order to claim the dogs.’

We debated for a good 20 minutes until she caved to contacting my vet, who very quickly identified the dogs. She then pulled out her keyboard and started reading off my list of fines…

Board
Food
Water
Staff
Licensing penalties
Quarantine fees
Unknown vaccination fees
And on and on and on

‘Well, your preliminary fines are $150 but I’m still waiting on some more numbers to compute.’ She said while typing.

‘$150?!?!?!’ I coughed.

‘$150 + for EACH’ she said definitively.

‘How much to give them to you? I don’t like dogs anymore’ I said seriously.

‘Look, if you license/vaccinate/microchip/neuter through us, we’ll make all these fines go away. I can do all that for 80 bucks.’ she said, sounding like a member of the mafia.

I pick up my dogs – minus their man parts – tomorrow.




THEN, I had to go to the dentist for an appointment I scheduled months ago. I switched dentists because I felt the other one was doing a poor job.

Judging by the ‘oh my’s’ and the ‘why did they do that’s’ said by the new dentist - I was right.

Those two crowns I got mere months ago and spent $1,500 on are actually causing damage and have to be taken out and replaced. The new filling? Has to be drilled out and crowned.

My bill?

I’m going to type this out so you feel my pain…

Three THOUSAND, six HUNDRED, thirty five dollars.



I just parked the value of a Ford Focus in my mouth.



I sat on the couch to watch the entire Season 2 of Grey’s Anatomy while eating a therapeutic gallon of Chocolate Malted Crunch ice cream from Rite Aid when Chris leaned in and said, ‘Hey hon, don’t use any of the bathrooms, sinks, toilets,… just don’t use any water at all. The plumbing pipes are messed up and I won’t be able to fix it tonight. You can’t take a shower tomorrow and you’ll have to wash your face with the hose. Sorry babe.’

‘That’s fine’ I said with an eerie smile, ‘I’ll just use the bathroom at Rite Aid when I go back to get the second - and necessary - therapeutic gallon of Chocolate Malted Crunch.’

If you notice a little more pudge on my rump… just don’t say anything - its therapy.

Anorexia by default…

People who know me don't have nightmares that 'Freddie' or 'Jason' will come to kill them at night... they have nightmares about having my marshmallow teeth.

They should make a horror flick about me. Call it 'Night of the Snaggle Tooth'.

The plot line would be:
Crazed redhead with fractured teeth storms through town hunting for Novocain. Dentists are brutally slaughtered and innocent bystanders are run over by dental chairs that come to life.

She eventually dies in the end because the fear of eating and breaking more teeth causes her to starve to death.



I should spare Lizzy and Cole the bad dreams but...

Last night while downing a container of Baskin Robbin's goodness, I broke a tooth.

Mind you, I only had one good side to eat on since my big fat metal temporary crown sits in the place of my last fractured tooth. Now I have no good sides to eat on and to make matters worse, my dentist office is closed until Monday.

I will be drinking my birthday cake on Sunday since chewing isn't an option. Blender anyone?



Now's the time when mothers use me as an example to small children about the dangers of sugar.

'Now see there Timmy, see that big metal tooth in this nice lady's mouth? That's what happens when you don't brush and floss. You wouldn't want to look like her right?'

I would try to interrupt and say 'BUT I DO BRUSH AND FLOSS TWICE A DAY AND I DON'T EAT ALL SUGAR' but it's usually a waste. I'm just the visual aid and visual aids aren't supposed to argue.

I just smile, tell the children how painful root canals are, open my mouth to expose the gleaming metal, and send the children running. They usually scream 'I'll never eat sugar again!' or 'Mommy can you buy me more toothbrushes?'.

The smart ones ask if the tooth comes with super powers.

I tell them yes.

My teeth have the power to max out credit cards in under a second.


Fortunately I'll get the pretty porcelain permanent crown on in two weeks but before then, I'm pretty sure I’ll be on Root Canal #4 thanks to this stupid broken tooth. This may be the first time I've had TWO metal gigantor temps in my mouth at the same time. Perhaps I'll be put on the Public Announcement Channel while 'Dangers of bad dental hygiene explained by a tooth impaired woman' scrolls across the bottom.

I could be famous.

Driiiiiillllll…

I had been putting off my dental check-up because I KNEW it was going to be pricey. I have three teeth that ACHE every time I run (oh who am I kidding. I don't run. Every time I walk fast).

Over the last three years, I've spent in the neighborhood of $3,000 on dental work.

I feel like the door bell doesn't chime when I enter the Dentist Office; it makes a loud 'CHA CHING!' sound.

My dentist is so kind and he always smiles really big when I walk in. At first I thought it was good customer service, and then I realized he loved me because I was financing his children's private education.

Today, I could have sworn that I heard him go to the back, pull out his cell phone, and whisper 'Darling, you know how I said we couldn't vacation this year? Well call the travel agent we're going to the BAHAMAS!! Heck, invite your mother!!'

Poor Chris had no idea when he married me, he was marrying a woman with the tooth density of a marshmallow and not the super tough 10 year old marshmallows you find in the back of your pantry under the bag of potatoes - we're talking Easter fresh Peep marshmallow density.

My dentist cleaned my teeth and tinkered around with his tiny mirror and pick. He clinked around punctuating his scratches with 'Hmm's'

'Well sweetie' - He always calls me sweetie, not sure why but it's sort of comforting - 'It's getting close to punch and everyone will be weaving. We don't have dime today but we're going to have to do a toot canal OK?'

Perhaps he should have removed his mask before speaking.

I'm bummed. I like it better when they treat me like an emergency patient and wheel me into the operating room.

Now I have a whole weekend to be miserable and think about the upcoming pain fest.

Boo.

Goodbye $800.