You know that hole they tell you to stop digging? Well, we think we've put down our shovels only to find ourselves back at it. Dig, dig, dig. We sorta kinda gain on the backlog of bills from my two plus years of unemployment and then I go and do something stupid like crack a tooth. A crack, I ask. Can the repair wait?
No, intones The Dentist. You either get a crown immediately or you might DIE!
Laughing in the face of death (again), I put it off and off and off, rescheduling from one month to the next until even the sweetest scheduler ever got a little huffy with me. I also had to take Nate and Sophie in for long-deferred cleanings. My ability to wiggle out evaporated.
Me in the Kurt Vonnegut Barcalounger, a blue paper towel necklace, the right side of my face melting onto my shoulder. Dear, dear, Novocaine. The smell of ground tooth thick in the air as the dentist preps the tooth right next to my incisor.
The dental assistant gasps. Oh no and gasping are are not something one wants to hear while a perfectly fine, but slightly cracked tooth is being ground to a nub.
Yes? The dentist stops drilling.
We don't have any of the right color for the temporary.
Thus began a flurry of activity involving color samples and a mirror. This one? Maybe this one? Too dark. Too Chiclet. How are your teeth so white anyway? Dammit, woman, stop brushing with baking soda!
We finally agree on a temporary crown color, I settle back into the Barcalounger and close my eyes.
|I have never felt so sexy.|
My eyes fly open. The dentist doesn't even stop grinding before the assistant elaborates.
We forgot to include lab charges on the treatment plan. I'll go get a revised plan for her to sign.
The dentist drills. I wonder how much more this will cost. The assistant returns, the drilling stops and a clipboard is thrust before me. I lift the cataract surgery glasses from my eyes so I can see the growing numbers.
I glance over the form and my tongue edges toward my shaved tooth. Time stopped so I could consider consider my options. Halloween is coming up. I could sit on the front porch with a lit votive in my mouth. Look mommy! A living Jack-o-Lantern!
I could invent a story about a disturbed dental student bursting into a cinema where I was viewing (what movies are out right now?) and started drilling teeth. Too unbelievable. How about a disturbed dental student drilling strangers' teeth in the toothpaste aisle at CVS. Coupons and tooth shards were flying!
The dentist revs the drill over my head.
I don't have much a choice here, do I? I'm slurring like a stroke victim.
No answer. I grab the pen and sign.
Payment is expected at the time services are rendered.
I wrote a check and paid the bill for a temporary crown that looks like someone yanked out my tooth and replaced it with a kernel of corn. And I don't mean a creamy piece of Silver Queen. No. This is definitely GMO corn only marginally safe for human consumption.
The kids tried to act like my tooth looked fine until we all busted out laughing. Well, they busted out laughing, I slurred out some laugh-like sounds.
Next up: MathMan, for a reason only he knows, threw his glasses under the wheels of a moving car. I'm sure it had something to do with percentages.
P.S. Unintentional irony on my other blog.