Beauty is in the eye tooth of the beholder

Mitch and the kids and I went to see that movie Here Comes the Boom with Kevin James as a teacher who goes on the ultimate fighting circuit to raise money for his school.  It wasn't a good movie, but the kids liked it.  Salma Hayek was in it and was gorgeous as usual.  I said something about how pretty she is on the way home, thinking Mitch would be all over that and he said, "Her teeth are weird.  It's like her molars are only about a millimeter long."

He sees a picture like the one above and now I know that he's not looking at anything but her back teeth and judging her negatively on their shortness.  Luckily for Mitch and I, my back teeth are looooooong..... ooo baby.....

New Show about Teeth

I heard Timothy Olyphant on Fresh Air one night so I decided to get his show, Justified, on Netflix and see if it was everything Terri Gross said it was.  I watched the first disk yesterday and I love it.  You know why?  Teeth.  You know how I love big teeth and the first episode of the show is full of big teeth.  Here's the star, Timothy Olyphant:

Nice teeth huh?  And the bad guy on that first episode had very interesting teeth too:

This guy is actually a little bit freaky looking and when he smiles real big he looks kind of scary, but isn't that what you want out of a bad guy?  Yes, it is.  

So because of that first episode of attractive teeth, I am now hooked on the show.  I like the cowboy hat and all the quick-drawing too. And I like Timothy Olyphant's Kentucky accent.  

p.s.  I think I might have fleas

                                           

My boyfriends

Mitch kindly pointed out to me the other day that I have a lot of "boyfriends" and is that really appropriate for a married woman?  Well, I guess I do have a lot of boyfriends, but I can't help it.  The heart wants what the heart wants.  My boyfriends are mostly on TV or in movies, historical figures, and at the dentist office; so they are kind of unreachable mainly because the TV boyfriends and historical figures were in their prime decades, and even centuries ago; the movie boyfriends are too good for me; and I have dentophobia so I rarely see my dentist boyfriend. 

Here is a (not comprehensive) list of my current boyfriends:

1.  Michael Fassbender, i.e. Mr. Rochester/Magneto

2.  George Washington

3.  Lucas McCain

4.  Sully from Dr. Quinn

5.  Magnum P.I

6.  My dentist

Just kidding.  That's not really my dentist.  I did find a picture of him when I googled his name, but I'm not going to put that up here, or his name because what if he googled himself and saw that I included him in my list of boyfriends?  I would DIE.  Besides, he likes Mitch more than he likes me anyway.  I went in when I had a toothache in the third tooth away from my front teeth, and he said that I had an abcess and I needed a root canal, or he could just pull it right then.  Like I'm really going to have a frontish tooth pulled out of my head only to leave a glaring gap that advertises how close I really am to being a total redneck.  What does he think of me?  I opted for the root canal, partly because I didn't want Cute Dentist to see me with a big gap in my smile. If he was an ugly dentist that I didn't care about I might have thought more about having the tooth pulled.  But I want Cute Dentist to think I'm classy. When Mitch goes in, Cute Dentist talks to him about teeth whitening, and lets him run the Pandora music, and spoons him in the dentist chair, and just generally loves him the way I yearn to be loved by him.  Mitch says it's because he knows that the only time I will ever go to the dentist is for emergency procedures and I will have only the bare minimum done because I HATE to have my teeth worked on so much.  Cute Dentist is probably pretty sure that I will never be in again, so why bother?  No spooning for me.

How can I love someone who is in a profession I hate so much?  Well, let me tell you.  For one thing, he is super cute which is a plus and a minus.  I don't really want cute guys to see me cry and smell the smell of my abcessed teeth, but what can I do?  On the other hand, he is a very small man with tiny little monkey hands that fit into my mouth like they were made to be there.  And he is the first dentist in my entire life who has never caused me excruciating pain.  I've even been toying with the idea of a checkup.  Yeah, that's right, going to the dentist for no good reason at all. I haven't done that since I lived with my parents and my mom would trick me into getting into the car by telling me we were going someplace fun, and then we'd end up at the dentist.  But since I've been seeing my new dentist, I've been back THREE times in the past five years or so.  That is amazingly often for me.  And it's all because of Dentist Boyfriend.

April Fool

I STILL don't have internet at home.  You know what?  Not having internet at home is exactly like being blind.  I want to know what a frog eats but can I just google it and find out?  NOOOO.... no internet.  So I just have to assume that they eat flies and that it doesn't matter if they are dead or not.  I want to know if centipedes bite people on the feet when they are sleeping, but can I find out?  No, not unless I get up at five o'clock in the morning and drive down the road and steal wifi from a neighbor, but my foot hurts from what I strongly suspect is a centipede bite, and I'm tired from a fitful night of almost no sleep because of bad dreams about shooting off into space, and guess what else is going on?  I HAVE ANOTHER TOOTH ACHE.  I have the worst teeth in the world.  I think they must be only slightly more durable than the peppermints my grandma used to keep in her car, which were hard as rocks, but dissolved with the tiniest bit of saliva (much like my teeth).

On April Fool's day I really wanted to get Kira with some kind of practical joke because she is constantly torturing me.  Lately her favorite method is to sneak up on me and pinch the skinny fat on the back of my arms or on my sides or on my thighs (anywhere, really) and say, "I'M PINCHING YOUR TENDERS!" and then laugh maniacally while I try to wriggle out of her iron-like grip.  She's going to be stronger than me soon and I am very very worried about that day.  So I took this plastic spider:

And taped it to the under-side of the toilet seat so when she lifted it she would get startled and scream.  Well, it turns out my girl has a bladder the size of a hot air balloon and only goes to the bathroom about twice a day so she never saw it on the toilet because she used the downstairs bathroom (note to self: next year, booby trap all toilets).  I did manage to forget about it and scared myself almost out of my wits when I lifted the toilet seat right before bed, and I slammed the lid back down and the spider broke free of the tape and fell in the toilet.  I disgustedly threw it in to the tub, with the idea that I'd disinfect it the next day (by throwing it in the garbage), but I forgot about it again and startled myself when I pulled the shower curtain back to take a shower.  That joke totally backfired.

I also put a little rubber snake in Kira's bed.  She didn't even notice.  The next morning I went in the bathroom to take a shower and saw a little plastic frog on the rug.  I thought Kira was trying to get me back for leaving the snake or the spider, so I was just going to pick it up and throw it out of the bathroom, but when I went to pick it up, IT HOPPED AWAY.  It is a real live frog!  It came to live with me!  I have no idea where it came from or how it got in the house, but I love him like a child now.  We made him a habitat in a big tupperware tub with a plant, a bunch of leaves, some sticks and a saucer of water.  I cover it with a damp towel and I set the whole thing on a heating pad.  The problem is what to feed the little guy because he's looking a little thin to me.

Don't you think his hips look a little bony?

All I could think of was flies so Kira trapped some live ones that are still buzzing around between the windows and I threw in some dead ones too for good measure, you know, in case he doesn't feel like hunting.  Mitch says he doesn't want to eat dead flies but how does he know?  See how important google is?  Yesterday morning I spotted a disgusting little centipede walking across the livingroom carpet so Mitch said to put it in with the frog because that would be a good meal.  I don't know if frogs like centipedes or if they think they are disgusting, and that is one of the things on my list to find out while I sit here in Mitch's office looking like a professional, and soak up a weekend's worth of wifi. (I just looked up pictures of centipedes and I had to stop because they are so gross.  The one in my house was only about an inch long, not the size of an adult human hand, like the ones I just saw.  Oh Christ, what if it's just a baby and doubles it's size every day? Shit shit shit!)

I made Kira put the centipede in the habitat because I find centipedes to be one of nature's most horrible jokes, and now I can't stop thinking about it.  I keep checking to make sure it is still in the habitat, and didn't somehow get out, but half the time I can't see it because it's hiding, and the other half the time, when I do spot it, it just grosses me out even more.  And do they bite?  Is it going to hurt my frog?  I have to find that out too.  I have tiny sore spot on my foot that I noticed at about three in the morning and in my sleep-deprived stupor I convinced myself that the centipede got out of the habitat and came into my bed and bit me.  My foot still hurts, so something definitely happened, and if it wasn't a centipede bite then what was it?  There is no other explanation, so now, when I go home I'm going to have to search through the habitat and find the centipede and kill it so it doesn't hurt my frog.

I know I'm rambling but I don't know when I will get a chance to blog again without making an effort to haul my computer out of the house.  This post is too long but I don't want to stop because I have so much more to tell you!  I'm afraid of space!  I ate six cupcakes on Saturday!  I think I might need another root canal!  I only slept 2 hours last night!  More later....

Update:  HOLY SHIT!  I just looked up centipedes and they DO bite, and their bites are venomous!  What evil have I brought on my little frog.  I better go home.  Centipedes have fangs on the underside of their heads much like spider fangs!  Gross!  I vaguely remember that they are poisonous because once Magnum got bit by a centipede when he was trapped under an airplane fuselage in the jungle and he was majorly tripping.

UPDATE #2:  Frogs eat bugs.  Captive frogs are supposed to eat meal worms or crickets.  There is no way in hell I'm buying crickets because they are only slightly less disgusting than centipedes, and I can just imagine how the car ride home would go with them in their little box and me gagging and writhing just thinking about them. And meal worms, please, like I'm going to pay money for something about as appealing as vomit.  Sorry frog!  I'll try to attract some moths at night, but until I find something that's not totally gross or poisonous, he'll have to settle for dead flies.

Update #3:  I'm now pretty sure I have had a centipede bite.  I can feel the poison coursing through my veins.

My new boyfriend

Happy President's Day!  I have been reading the book 1776 by David McCullough and I think I'm a tiny bit in love with George Washington.  He was so brave, and heroic, and tall, and such a good leader.  (Sigh.)  What really did it for me was when I read a story to a kindergarten class last week about how Washington returned General Howe's dog when it was captured by the Yankees during the revolutionary war.  The Yankees wanted to keep it as it would serve as a blow to the moral of the British, but keeping someone's pet for spite was too much for George, and he called a cease-fire and returned the dog.  Awwww!!  (It's a true story.  I looked it up.) I also recently watched the HBO miniseries John Adams, which was wonderful, and David Morse of Hack fame played George Washington.  Oh, you have never heard of the show Hack?  How embarrassing for you.  It was a show about a cab driver (David Morse) and Mitch and I liked it because the Hack character would push people down on a regular basis.  David Morse is HUGE.  He can really push. And he makes a great GW.

David Morse as GW

Of course, I don't think anything will come of my infatuation with George Washington, so don't worry about my marriage.  George Washington will never come between Mitch and me.  For one thing, he's 238 years older than me.  He and I together would be grosser than Michael Douglas and Catherine Zeta-Jones.  Also, he had worse teeth than me.  By the time he was president he only had one natural tooth left so he wore dentures which were NOT made out of wood, but out of ivory, gold, springs, and at least one cow tooth (gross), and although I am in no position to criticize someone else's teeth, I would not want to have any long frenchers with someone with cow teeth.  (No offense, Martha)

He was a snappy dresser.  He had his uniforms and suits made for him in London by a tailor and he always looked impeccable.  Most men of the time wore wigs, but not George.  He wore his own hair in a pony and powdered it white.  He wasn't a big fan of bathing though.  He thought too many baths were unhealthy.  I bet he didn't smell all that great, unless his hair powder was made by Drakkar Noir, but I'm pretty sure they didn't have Drakkar back then. (just kidding, Drakkar: yuck)

my  boyfriend

George was a fantastic horse rider. (Horses! EEEE!) Unfortunately during the French and Indian War he had two horses shot out from under him.  TWO!  He was really broken up about that because he loved animals.  He was a dog breeder and really loved his dogs.  He had really cute names for his dogs like Sweetlips and Truelove.  Awww!  (But also he had some dogs named Drunkard and Tipler.  That could be a red flag.  I don't know if I would want to have a relationship with a man with a bunch of alcoholic dogs.)

He never had biological children of his own.  Some historians speculate that because he had smallpox as a young adult it might have caused him to be sterile.  (Sterility: not a deal-breaker) Martha had two children from her previous marriage before she married George (her first husband died) and George raised them and loved them like they were his own.  Unfortunately they both died young.  Then George and Martha raised their two grandchildren.

George was a Southern plantation man and had slaves.  Lots and lots of slaves.  (Slavery, that's kind of a deal-breaker for me.)  Of course he set all his slaves free in his will, but that's kind of a fuck-you gift to the black man of 1799 isn't it?  "You're free, now beat it!"  I don't know.  Probably.  He had misgivings about slavery but never spoke publicly about it because he didn't want the country torn apart by the slavery issue.  (OMG!  Predict the future much?!) He left orders in the will that the older slaves be clothed and fed and provided for, and the younger ones to be educated and trained in an occupation, so, that's something, I guess.

So anyway, despite the 238 year age difference, my insistence on basic hygiene, and my opposition to alcoholic pets and slavery, I think I am still in love with George Washington.  I can't help myself!

Happy Birthday, George!

Chiclets!

This is the singer Cee Lo Green.  He was on Saturday Night Live last weekend with my nemesis, Gwyneth Paltrow.  I would KILL for Cee Lo's teeth.  They are so large and white and straight and LARGE!  I love big teeth.  I think they are the most attractive thing a person can have and if I had the money and didn't have the crippling fear of all things dental, I would get work done to make my teeth look bigger and whiter and straighter.  Hilary Duff apparently agrees with me because she had her teeth done and although I love her new teeth, I think she may have over-done it:

(Only feed her carrots with a flat hand)

They were pretty good before, but as a lover of big teeth, I understand her wanting them even BIGGER.  You know who else has a nice big set of choppers?  Denzel Washington:

I photoshopped a picture of myself a long time ago and I changed my face in all the ways I would in real life if plastic surgery was cheap and painless.  I enlarged my eyes, minimized my chin, and enbiggened my teeth.  SO PRETTY!

Another (and hopefully my last in a long time) Dental Disaster

I had to go to the dentist today for my last appointment to fix everything I have been ignoring for the last ten years because of my crippling case of dental-phobia.  This particular dentist is about 16 years old and wants to be called Dr. Stephanie.  (Not her real name, but you get the idea, Doctor + first name).  She did a pretty good job last time.  She was quick, and it was relatively painless so I wasn't dreading today too much.  First she told me what she would be doing;  filling three cavities, one which she said was "deepish" and might be sensitive for a while.  Then we talked about Days of Our Lives for a while and then she got busy.  It wasn't too bad until she cut her finger and bled into my mouth.

yeah, that's right, I said, BLED INTO MY MOUTH!

That kind of sucked for both of us.  Now I have to go to the clinic later and have some blood drawn to prove to her that I don't have HIV or HCV or HBV or an other kind of virus. I wonder what I caught from her?  Probably nothing, I'm not worried about it, but I am so ticked about having to have blood taken (I don't really feel like fainting today) that I didn't reassure her about my virus-free status and instead just said, ".... oh..... no.  I'm so sorry that happened.  To you."

Now I'm sitting at home and the novocaine is wearing off and the tooth she said might be a bit sensitive is hurting like someone was pounding on it with a jackhammer.  Oh well, at least now I don't have to go back to the dentist for another ten years.

Why I hate the dentist

Hypothetically speaking, because we are all SICK TO DEATH of hearing about my personal dental issues, this is why I hate going to the dentist.

Let's say that you get up at the crack of dawn to go and finally get the permanent crown for the tooth you had to have a root canal in last month.  You remind the assistant that you have an irrational fear of all things dental and ask about novocaine.  She says you won't need it because the tooth has no nerves in it anymore so it couldn't possibly hurt. (silly!) Your dentist comes in and chats with you for a while about the Stanley Cup and how much he hates the early morning and then he gets started.  He can't get the temporary crown off and almost breaks all your other teeth when his torture tools keep slipping off said temporary crown and then he begins to sweat uncontrollably and says to the assistant, "Is it HOT in here?  I am so hot!"  He keeps trying and keeps saying, "It's almost there" and you can tell, because the tooth is in your head, that it's not any closer than it ever was.  You're remembering him saying how important it was to have a crown put on because the tooth is so very weak and could break at any time, and that you shouldn't eat anything sticky with the temporary crown because it could just slip off.  You realize that the tooth is way stronger than anyone ever thought, and the temporary crown will never in a million years just slip off, and he's going to have to break it if he wants to get it off.  After another five minutes of sweating and pulling, he says, "Well, I think we're going to have to break it off."  And then he breaks it off.

Hypothetically speaking, that's why I hate the dentist so much.

Dazed

I'm feeling like a bit of a lazy failure today.  A few days ago I decided that I was healed enough after the dreaded wisdom tooth surgery to stop taking Vicodin.  I told myself I would alternate between heavy doses of ibuprofen and Tylenol because honestly, it didn't really hurt all that bad.  This morning I got up, the swelling is almost gone and the bruising is surprisingly faded but WOW does it hurt today.  It's like the worst jaw ache I've ever had.  Really tight and sore so I caved and took one of the Vicodin.

I know, I know, you're saying, "So what!  Why feel bad!  That's what it's for!"  The reason I feel bad about this (besides the fact that every one I take is one less to be hoarded)  is because Mitch is out of town for work and it's just Kira and me home.  She is such a terror and today I realized that during her entire life I've been constantly prepared to whisk her off to the emergency room at a moment's notice.  She's either climbing 50 feet up a tree, or doing a double flip on the trampoline, or bringing home her "new friend" who turns out to be a strange 150 pound rottweiler wearing a barbed choke collar.  I can't do much whisking when I'm stoned out of my gourd on narcotics.  (For all the dangerous stuff she does, we haven't had to take her to the emergency room for a few years.  Knock on wood.)

So this afternoon I couldn't stand the pain anymore and I took a pill.  Thankfully I've kept her busy since she got home from school with making muffins, playing with the dog (our dog, not the rottweiler) and I even took out my precious Dr. Quinn DVDs and I'm letting her watch those.  Good parenting?  I don't know.  In one scene of Dr. Quinn, a man was wanting to spend some time with a saloon hooker and the bar owner said, "She's five dollars!" and Kira said, "Hey!  I could afford to buy her!"  Cringe. 

Tonight we are going to watch 20,000 leagues Under the Sea, and then it should be bedtime.  Then I can relax.  Mitch is on his way home and should be here later tonight.  Whew. 

Mrs. Green Jowls

Day four of wisdom tooth surgery recovery was the day I finally had to get off the couch, get dressed and do something productive.

 Day 4 bruise beard

My parent's took the kids for the weekend so I had to meet my Mom halfway between our towns and pick Kira up because she has school this week.  Yesterday morning, as I was lying in bed sleeping, the phone rang and on the answering machine was the secretary from Kira's school asking where Kira was.  What?  Kira told me she had a four day week.  I knew that this was a four day week.  She told me Monday was the day they had off.  She was wrong.  Thursday is the last day of school.  Sneaky little turd. 

Today is day 5 and I'm feeling pretty good.  I went to the doctor this morning and he said I'm healing as if I'm on day 7 instead of day 5.  EAT THAT, FELLOW PATIENTS!  He was a bit surprised at my swelling.  I'm not even swollen anymore.  Here's me today:

If he saw me a few days ago I wonder what he would have said.  Probably, "Holy shit!"  Today my bruises are turning green. 

Day three

Day three is the day that the nurse said would probably be the worst as far as soreness and swelling goes. 

This is the stage of recovery I'm calling the "dirty jowl" stage.  Black and blue jowls.  Sooo pretty.  I can finally chew a little which is a good thing because I couldn't even think about having another Magic Bullet smoothie.  The swelling is starting to go down and I'm starting to feel a bit better.  I tried to trade in my Vicodin for ibuprofen yesterday.  That was a mistake, so I'm going to commit to being high and drowsy and itchy for another day and try again tomorrow.  I never thought I'd say this, but I'm kind of tired of convalescing. 

Recovery, Day 2

Here's a picture of me yesterday after wisdom teeth surgery: 

Just swollen enough to be cute like a tweety bird, and oh, those wonderful drugs! 

Here's day 2.  Not as cute.

One side is really swollen and turning black and blue.  Mitch wants to take me out.  I think he wants people to think he beats me.  The nurse said that day 3 is usually the worst and most swelly.  Stay tuned. 

Once again, I've cheated death

I survived wisdom teeth surgery.  So far.  If I can avoid infection or dry socket or drug overdose, I'm home free.  The worst part of the entire experience was waiting for it.  Once I was in the chair they gave me nitrous.  That stuff is a miracle.  They put it on and I felt every muscle in my body relax and I didn't care about anything.  They put an IV in and I didn't even want to throw up at the thought of it!  Miraculous!  Then I went to sleep, but not really sleep because I could still hear the doctor and the nurses talking.  That was one of the things I was most afraid of, being paralyzed, but not really out.  But it was okay because I couldn't feel anything.  Then I woke up and lay in recovery for a while and then the nurse talked to me for about ten minutes and I can remember her talking and thinking, "............................................ Is she even speaking English?"  Thankfully my dad was there and he relayed the instructions for me again when I was more lucid.

I got some sweet drugs and was told to take them right away to "get ahead of the pain."  Okay, no problem.  I took some and then watched New Moon which I bought for myself when I was at the pharmacy as a tooth fairy present, but couldn't keep my eyes open and I had a waking dream that one of my feet was on backwards and it was weird and scary but mostly unbelievably hilarious!  My stupid toes were in the BACK! Wow, I had a lot of trouble with that foot.  And my knee bent both ways.  It was so REAL!

I kept my teeth (obviously) and here they are (prepare yourself):

Yes, I know they are bloody and gory and disgusting, but now I'm done with dental issues!  So no more teeth posts!  Yay for all of us!

Thank you so much to my Mom and Dad for coming down to help me and taking the kids home with them for the weekend.  I really appreciate it!

Bye, Wisdom Teeth

Goodbye Wisdom Teeth, you assholes.  I hope I live to gloat at your demise. 

Last Will and Testament

Tomorrow I am having the most difficult and traumatic root canal anyone in the history of the world ever had, and I feel I should be prepared, so I am writing my will here for all to see, in the likely event that I die of dental-phobia.

1. To Mom and Dad - you can have my bird. Be nice to her. (Mom, that means DON'T let her free in the woods behind your house.) You can also have my dog. She's very sweet. She also gets worms a lot. Watch out for that.

2. To my sister Amy - You can have my Dr. Quinn memorabilia which includes my autographed picture of Dr. Quinn, Sully and John Schneider, and my DVD collection of every single Dr. Quinn episode and movie, and all the Dr. Quinn paperback books.

3. To my sister Beth - You can have my floppy straw sun hat and Kiwi scented sunscreen dauber. Both are good for the prevention of the dreaded "freckle 'stache. You can also have everything I've ever crocheted and all my yarn. Rent a U-haul.

4. To Grandma Zetta - You can have the teacup that you stole from Worcester College for me. I will no longer have to blackmail you for stealing it, because I'll be dead.

5. To Kira, you can have my iPod which I know you love so much that it will do much to ease the distress of losing your mother. Please, make sure I'm dead before you get too excited though, because if I pull through somehow, you do not get it.

6. To Sam, you can have my computer. Again, don't get too excited until you're sure I'm dead.

7. To my friend and fellow blogger, Anne - You can have my blog if you will agree to write a comprehensive and glowing obituary for me when you get over the initial shock of my passing. The username and password are in an email draft that Mitch will send you when he is able to pull himself together enough to crawl out of bed and continue with the business of living (probably several months). Feel free to use the outline of the obituary I wrote for myself (included in the email). Of course it's up to you, since I'll be dead and won't know the difference, but you could make it into a dental-phobia-awareness blog.

8. And finally, to my loving husband, Mitch - you can have all the candy I've hidden throughout the house. I'm not going to write down where it all is because in case I pull through, I don't want to have to find all new hiding spots. You'll just have to find it. Good luck, and look diligently because some of it is perishable. You can also have everything else of mine not on this list to give away or keep at your discretion. Oh, and you are to NEVER remarry, or I will haunt you ("till death do you part" means your death.) And make the west wall of the living room into a shrine for me, complete with altar and candles. Also, make sure that "Ballroom Blitz" is played at my funeral.

Goodbye all, and thanks for the memories!

Update on my teeth that you forgot to ask for

I just realized that I had my oral surgery consultation and I never updated the blog about how it went. I guess you all FORGOT TO ASK about it, or maybe you were just being polite, because I know everyone loves to hear about other people's disgusting maladies.

You know how my doctor told me a few years ago that I'm approaching middle age (bitch) and I should start to take preventative measures against old-lady problems like osteoporosis? (she did) She told me I need to take a daily calcium/vitamin D supplement, so for about two years I have been faithfully doing just that. Guess what? It's working! My bones are harder and denser than anyone could ever expect bones to be even though I drink gallons of Diet Coke which supposedly weakens bones with all the delicious acid. That's why I weigh so much, dense bones. But, there's a down-side to being the anti-osteoporosis poster gal, and that is that my bone-impacted teeth will have to be chipped out of my rock-like jaw, and I can expect extensive swelling and pain after surgery! Isn't that fucking fantastic?

My doctor is kind of cute which is also bad because now, on top of being completely freaked out by the entire ordeal, I have to be embarrassed that a handsome man is going to be smelling my infected tooth sockets. I bet that's going to be really stinky.

Oh, and the tiny bits of the teeth that have popped through the gums have cavities, so if I were to just leave them in, eventually I would have to get the cavities fixed or look forward to root canals.

Life is SWEET these days!

How much Advil is too much Advil?

I don't know yet, I'll let you know when I hit the overdose wall. I've been having jaw pain for about the last two weeks because of my impacted wisdom teeth. The two on the bottom are in and have been in for years but they keep moving around. Of the two on the top, one came in about 18 years ago and was pulled because it didn't fit in with my other teeth, meaning I literally couldn't shut my mouth so if I wanted to talk or chew I had to have it pulled. The other upper wisdom tooth is hung up behind my last molar (I saw it on an x-ray) and I was hoping it would just stay there forever and never move. It's moving. I think it's growing sideways and pushing the roots of all my teeth together which is super duper painful!

I know what your thinking, you're thinking 'Why the hell do I continue to read about someone's wisdom teeth problems? Gross and who cares?' and you're also thinking, 'Hey dummy, just go to the dentist and have them taken out.' (don't call me dummy)

That's easy for you to think because you obviously aren't as afraid of that whole procedure as I am. First of all, I'm afraid of surgery in general. Anesthesia scares me because what if it just paralyzes me and I am still conscious and can feel everything? What if it just kills me? Secondly, this is surgery on my HEAD. I live in my head and like it just the way it is and don't want anyone messing with it. Thirdly, it's bone surgery - ew! bone surgery! and fourthly they will be doing all of this through my MOUTH. They will be stretching my jaw and peeling back my lips and cutting through my gums in order to dig through my skull to get out a tooth that is lodged right next to my sinuses and ear canal.

I'd rather have a colonoscopy. I'd rather have an abortion. I'd rather both of those things on the same day because for me, they would be less invasive and less traumatic. In fact, if I could solve my jaw problems by having a colonoscopy and an abortion, I think I might do it.

And finally, I don't have health insurance. We had MinnesotaCare insurance before which is the state public insurance, (which is a hell of a lot more than most states have), but they kicked us off (as they do every year) so I re-applied in July and between their slow processing and their constant need for more information, the application still hasn't been processed. So until that happens, no jaw surgery, no colonoscopies and no abortions. I faxed in what will hopefully be the last piece of information they will need today, and was promised that our case will be expedited so perhaps I can see someone about this tooth before it pops through my palate, or sinus cavity, or eyeball.

I know what you're thinking now, 'OMG, why don't you have health insurance? Are you poor? You are such a terrible parent!' Oh, hang on, don't get judgemental, stick with me here: No, technically not poor, but we have a small business and to get private insurance we would have to pay around $600 a month (that was about 8 years ago, I'm sure it's way more now) just in premiums, with a huge deductible for any health expenses we incurred. We are four healthy people who incur about $400 total in health expenses all year long, so it would be stupid, not to mention financially impossible to pay a health insurer $7500 a year on top of the $400 we pay in health care costs anyway.

'But,' you say, 'what about a catastrophic event, or even a non-catastrophic but expensive event like jaw surgery?' Exactly. Now you see where I'm at! The way private insurers work, getting the coverage you paid for is like squeezing gold coins out of Scrooge McDuck. (actually, I think if you squeeze Scrooge McDuck, gold coins do pop out here and there.) Heck, if they paid all their claims they wouldn't have enough left over for advertising and swag! I'm sure my tooth, for example, would be considered a pre-existing condition, since it's been there since I was born.

MinnesotaCare is a really good program. It has a large group of people, so the premiums are kept moderately low and when they say you're covered, you're covered. The tricky part is getting on it (the application process is a bitch) and staying on it (you have to reapply every year). THIS IS WHY WE NEED A SINGLE PAYER HEALTH CARE PROGRAM LIKE CANADA, GODDAMMIT! Okay, sorry, sorry about that. 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10... I'm calm now. Breathe breathe.... okay.

I have a consultation with an oral surgeon on the 5th so I hope the insurance application is processed before then, but if not, it's all out-of-pocket. Which is still cheaper than private insurance.

Now you're wishing me the best of luck and hoping I don't overdose on Advil, and begging me to please, never EVER write about my teeth problems again. Well, I can't make any promises about that! You want to know how this whole thing plays out don't you? You want to see a picture of what a tooth looks like punched through the roof of someone's mouth, don't you? If it wasn't me, I'd want to see that picture! You're so sweet! Thanks! It's been nice having this little chat with you!

Dental Diatribe

My jaw started hurting on the left side the other day. The pain starts at the joint and then radiates down through both the upper and the lower jaw on the right side. I think I finally figured out what it is.

Only three of my wisdom teeth came in. The two bottoms, which are still impacted but seem to have stopped growing and hurting after about ten years of growing and hurting, and the top right. I had the top right tooth removed because it grew in far enough so that I couldn't shut my mouth all the way. That was a big deal because my old dentist is a total sadistic bastard. I was fretting over it. I mean worried sick, because I really really really hate having my teeth worked on. (I would rather have a baby every single day than have a check up every six months.) I asked the old bastard to give me a valium or something and he laughed mockingly and wouldn't even give me the courtesy of an answer! My friend's mom gave me one of her valium, and on the day I had the tooth taken out, he shot me full of novocaine and then, like usual, went immediately to work, not giving the novocaine time to take effect. This caused intense trauma and pain, and it was topped off with my entire head turning numb a half hour after I left his office.

He actually propped a leg on the dental chair and hoisted himself up over me so he'd have more leverage and then had his assistant hold my head down while he yanked. And this person is called "doctor?"

I thought maybe he was just a bad dentist (he is), so I have spent all of my adult life looking for a decent dentist and have met some very nice people, but it is not exactly a profession that lends itself to gentleness. So I stopped going.

The funny thing is, it seems that the number of cavities and dental problems I have has a direct relation to how often I go to the dentist. For a while when I was a kid I was averaging a couple cavities a visit, so that's three or four a year. My parents were diligent about taking care of our dental needs so we went every six months. We'd go for a check up, he'd find some cavities, and then we'd have to come back for another visit (or usually two visits) to fix the cavities.

Hmmm, "Doctor," commit fraud much? Of course, I have no proof. Just a feeling.

Since I have stopped going for regular checkups (about 12 years), I have had one cavity. Of course, how could I possibly get any more cavities when my mouth is already totally filled with metal? The only other dental problems I've had is a broken tooth caused by eating rock hard frozen chocolate chips when I was 7 months pregnant, wisdom teeth pain, and a deep pocket in my gums.

The tooth broke because what was left of the actual tooth chipped off the filling that was there. The dentist I went to for that was a very nice man, but by the time I was finished with the visit where he drilled my tooth down to a nub of nerves and fitted a metal crown over it, I was laying in a pool of my own sweat. I'm not even kidding. The chair was dripping wet from my neck to my ankles (embarrassing!) and my hands were sore the next day from clutching the arm rest.

I got the pocket in my gums from some other idiot who fitted a metal sheath over my tooth so he could drill out the old metal filling that broke and put in a new filling. He shoved that sheath down so far, my gums have never recovered in that area, and now after I eat anything, I have to have floss on hand to dig nauseatingly deep down into that pocket to get out the food that gets lodged in there.

That was the last straw. That was about 8 years ago and I have only had one checkup/cleaning since. That's when I had the x-ray to see what was going on with my wisdom teeth. It turns out that the upper left wisdom tooth is stuck behind the last molar on that side. I think it is finally starting to come in and it's moving all the teeth on that side over. I should go and get it looked at but now that I think I know what it is I figure, why bother. Can they do anything but make it worse?

The last time I went to the dentist to have this looked at he explained the situation and said, "You know what I think we should do?" and I said, "Is it drilling a hole in my head? Is it going deep into my mouth and digging out part of my skull? Because if it is either one of those things, then no."

Has dentistry come any further than drilling and digging since I last went? If it has, then maybe I'll go, but I don't think it has.