It all started with my six month dental exam. Like normal, I dreaded that I had to visit my least favorite person, the dental hygienist. She has many names; Jack-ette the Ripper, Fredi Kruger, Ginsu, Shredder, etc. I realize being thorough during a dental exam could be considered a good thing. But for some strange reason, I think she got some sick twisted satisfaction out of making gums bleed. Not just my gums, but any one's gums. Doesn't matter if I brush 3 times a day and floss 3 times a day. My mouth was going to be like Old Faithful if she had anything to do with it. On this particular day, Slicer/Dicer was going over my rack of teeth, when she noticed a cracked tooth on the x-ray. Not a large crack, but I was told a potential root canal hazard if I didn't take care of it soon. So we agreed to monitor. Six months later, Houston, we have a problem. Now Ms. Slice-o-Matic has decided I need a crown, pronto. What! You've got to be kidding! Lady Schick said we really need to do the crown soon. So I scrounged up enough cash to cover the crown. Oh joy. I can see the glint in her Razor sharp eyes when I come in for the procedure. Little did I know they file the existing tooth down to a nub. Yes, I've been nubbed. Call me Nubbie-Kins. Then they glue the crown to the nub. Ok from day one this crown was hell. It took almost a year for that sucker to feel somewhat normal. Which means another 6 months had past and I had re-visited Butcher-ella. This time, Axe-woman found decay under said crown. What! You've got to be kidding! So now I'm told I have to have the tooth pulled. Shut the Front Door! I dragged my feet as long as I could before I set up the appointment to have the dang nub extracted. Save me! Extraction day arrives. I choose to be put under, so that I don't have to feel all the icky stuff they are going to be doing to my poor toofer. Not sure how long the extraction took but I sure did get good drugs. I think at one point my hottie hubby had to carry me into the house. Wow, wish I was awake to listen to his groans from the weight of my limp bod. I miss all the good stuff. Being the trooper that I am and the avid golfer, I was out on the course 2 days after the procedure. It took about a week for the darn stitches to finally fall out. Every time one would fall out I have to examine it. Kind of looked like a little squid. Ick. Every so often my lover man would ask me, how is your tooth. I had to remind him, I don't have a tooth I have a hole. So he would ask, how is your hole? Hmmm, I could really run with this one, but I will keep my mind away from the gutter. It took another week for the pain to go away and for me to adjust to the cow bone that was placed in my jaw. I'm still trying to get over the Husband's cow-esk jokes, like Moooover over or we better steer clear of you. I think he was hopping I would have trouble uttering..... Right now, I am sporting a gi-normous gaping hole in the back of my mouth. Soon I will have to go through the implant process. Geez, dental work is so FUN. not......
Stay cool!
