Crown Me

I had to sit in the dentist’s chair again today for the 3rd time in 49 days, and the lovely news is that I need a crown. This not-so-awesome news comes on the heels of having two teeth pulled.

You know, when I think of getting a crown, I think of something magical—like being a princess, or queen, or some other wonderful royal spectacle. I don’t want to think of my tooth being ground away and my head feeling like I’ve been smacked upside it with a baseball bat.

I think of rich colors like purple and blood red. I don’t want to think of temporary tin foil silver and the subsequent not-quite-white color coming in the permanent model.

Most if all, when I think of crowns, I think of the commercial from my childhood.

Imperial Margarine Commercial

Now that’s a crown!

And in case you don’t know about Imperial Margarine, here it is:

The next time I hear, “Let’s crown it,” it’d better be my head we’re talking about.


Tooth Ripping-Ouch Day

Yesterday was not a fun day. Tooth #12 was ripped out of my head. Yep. That’s its name–tooth #12. That’s the one that if you don’t get it replaced, you look like you just stepped out of the movie Deliverance.

My misery started earlier last week with a little pain that I dismissed because I had successfully completed my six-month dental checkup a couple of weeks before. I realized the pain was real when my tooth broke in half while I was having my relaxing lunch at the river.

You can read about that here.

Talk about a way to ruin your day. I called the dentist, and of course couldn’t see him until the next day. When I got there, I had all kinds of fun on his carnival ride where he turns me upside down on my head to the point I am sliding headfirst to the floor. Man!

After feeling my tooth shift under his finger, he told me that it was one of those freak things that rarely happen. Lucky me. Then, he says he’s going to pull it.

Say what? Um, are you going to put me to sleep? I knew the answer was no, so we talked and decided I’d go to an oral surgeon. He got me in that day, so I left one office and proceeded directly to the other.

When my oral surgeon walked in, he said, “Do I know you?” I told him he had pulled my wicked wisdom tooth with the roots wrapped around my jawbone a year and a half ago. He still didn’t remember until I reminded him of what I told him.

“I weigh more than I look like I do, and I want you to be sure and give me enough stuff to make sure I’m out. I don’t want to know I’m in the world,” I said.

“It seems like I do remember that conversation,” he said with a grin.

The reason I told him that is because on another tooth-ripping occasion (yes, that’s three!) I knew EVERYTHING the oral surgeon was doing. Not fun.

As much as you can love an oral surgeon, I love this one. Both times he has knocked me out completely with what he calls “the good stuff,” and brought me back to life again. His nurse is awesome, and makes me feel as at ease as possible.

I had a bonus of seeing these pretty leaves upon entering the office. I was so goofy on the way out that I didn’t notice them then. 😀

After a swollen-face day yesterday, all is better today. Oh, and I’ve had hardly anything to eat the last three days, and guess how much weight I’ve lost? Not one ounce.

You’d think I’d at least get that bonus.

Don’t Fall Out of the Dentist’s Chair

I went to the dentist yesterday, and luckily I remembered the appointment before I left the house.

Why is that important, you ask? I don’t know how your dentist does things, but mine puts me on a carnival ride without a seat belt every time I go.

I’m not kidding. The man pushes the hydraulic button, lifts the chair up, and flips me upside down on my head!!! I white-knuckle the dentist chair even when I’m sitting level, but when he flips the switch for this ride, I have to hang on for dear life!

I totally get that this makes it easier for him to see in the back recesses of my maw, but when he flips me upright again, my vertigo kicks in every single time. Let the spinning in my head commence!

Sheesh. For this much fun all I get is a toothbrush? Shouldn’t I get a little keychain or something?

What does all his have to do with my choice of clothes? Well, I was going to wear a pair of slickidy pants yesterday, but when I remembered I was going to the dentist, I put some on that were grippier.

I knew not to wear a dress or a skirt, either. That would not do at all.

Hopefully, I won’t have to ride the ride again for another 6 months.