I Think I'd Have Been Happier If It HAD Been Cat Litter

Until this week, I hadn't been to the dentist in eight years. I'm not a dentalphobe. The last time I was there, I was having a root canal on one of my top right molars. At some point, things went wrong, and the root cracked. We put in a "temporary" filling, assuming that when it gave out, we'd have to come up with a Plan B... and that was eight years ago.

I haven't chewed on the right side of my mouth for, oh, about a year and a half. Allowing anything to touch those teeth could, at seemingly random moments completely unrelated to what I happened to be eating, cause excruciating flares of pain, as if a lit match had been inserted into my gums.

So why didn't I go to the dentist? Because for about the past six years, I haven't had insurance. I knew I'd have to do something about my teeth eventually, but other things always took priority. Until Monday.

Witness my Twitter feed:


I thought I was joking. Because I'm funny that way. Then this...


Seriously, I crack me up. And the clinic cats truly are that annoying. And then...


Suddenly, I'm not laughing anymore. One of my bottom right molars, which already had a filling... broke. Like, half of it became one with the chicken sandwich. I guess the "good" part is that since I had a filling in the middle of the tooth, it didn't hurt just sitting there.

But once you know you have a giant tooth-hole in your mouth, you can't keep your tongue out of it. This is not only annoying, it makes you look funny, as you contort your face to get a better angle for your tongue to explore this new topographical dental feature.

I called the dentist, and they got me in the next day. I warned them. They were not going to be amused when they found out all the crap that was going on in there. Then, because I don't have insurance (or money), I got online and applied for Care Credit. Thank goodness for that option. Otherwise I'd have had to call friends and family and beg for tooth-fixin' money. Because despite being originally from West Virginia, I prefer not to go around with fewer than the customary number of teeth. In my case 28, since I had my wisdom teeth out when I was about 20. (Mmmm, nitrous oxide. Can I have a mirror? I wanna see what you're doing in there. No? Bummer. So can I have more nitrous? No? Jeez, you people suck.)

My dental evaluation on Tuesday was pretty much what I expected. Apparently I have the dental health of a Medieval serf, but with more coffee stains. Besides the half-completed root canal from eight years ago - which still has to be dealt with - and the brand new tooth-hole, I have four or five cavities. Or it might be six. I forget. Every time I thought he was done, he mentioned another one. I also have so much calculus buildup that if I opened my mouth and looked up, it would be visible on Google Earth. Once I get my pain-inducing damage repaired, it's going to take a few heavy cleanings to dig it off and even see the surface of my actual teeth. Still, I maintain that the calculus has served a useful purpose during my dentist-free years. I bet it's been the only thing holding some of my teeth together.

Today, I have just returned from having two cavities filled, and my temporary crown installed. I was a whisker apprehensive. I'm not normally afraid of medical-type things. My pain tolerance is fairly high. It's the surprises I don't like. You think things are going along fine, then... ohmyfuckinggodthathurtslikeasonofabitch!!! Unlike my wonderful husband, dentists do not provide "good" surprises.

Here's the bizarre part. I was settled in my "stretch out and try to relax" chair, two blankets keeping me toasty warm, and the doctor asked me if I'd like nitrous oxide. And I said no. Really! I said no to floaty-dreamy-feeling gas that would have made me not give a shit if I were at the dentist or home snug in my bed.

I did, however, tell him don't even think of skimping on the numb-juice. He didn't, and it didn't hurt much at all. I've had manicures that were worse. (Ow! Bitch! That's my cuticle!)

This particular dentist was a client of mine when I worked for the Veterinary Axis of Evil, back in the day. I remember he had found a kitten. The good news is that a) he no longer uses the clinic owned by the Veterinary Axis of Evil, and b) he now has a 7-month-old golden retriever named Fergus. We're practically related.

I paid surprisingly little attention to the procedure. More than ever, I live inside my own head and seldom take notice of my surroundings. This is the reason my house can progress from "messy" to "health code violation" with my being none the wiser. It's also why I hate to drive, because I never remember how I got anywhere. Regarding today's appointment, I can verify that there were various mirrors, buzzy things, jabby things, squirty things, sucky things, and one thing that looked like a phaser. That's 'bout it.

At one point, the sun broke through the clouds and tried to sear my retinas. They exchanged my plastic eye-shield glasses for nifty black sunglasses... I'm sure this was not only to protect my eyes from debris or sun damage, but because I looked totally awesome in them. I mean, they're the ones that had to look at me.

Now I'm home sipping a drink and trying not to drool on the keyboard. I'm waiting for numbness and facial paralysis to abate so I can eat something. You know... without accidentally chewing a hole in my own cheek. I go back for my permanent crown in a few weeks, and then I guess we'll figure out what to do about the other cavities and the temporary filling that lasted eight years.

I have the whole rest of the day till Tom gets home. I doubt I'll do any re-writing today since my head is kind of distracted. And it's a safe bet I won't be bitten by the House Cleaning Bug. I'm kind of starting to wish I'd asked for the nitrous oxide. To go.