Hold on for one more day.

Thursday, October 30th, 2008

Thank God for the dentist’s office, without visits to which I would miss out on my biannual Wilson Phillips listening party.

No Cavities!  🙂

Sore gums.  🙁

I have a crown; I am a queen.

Monday, March 10th, 2008

There is a kingdom unlike most others, where royal highness is honored not by wearing magnificent gilded head wear, but by a porcelain trinket, fitted snugly against the humble remains of a failing molar and held there by a sour tasting cement, bonded together, this crown and this queen, for all of eternity. Today I joined the ranks of such royalty. You may catch a glimpse the next time I say “Ahh,” and you may feel a compulsion to bend on one knee in some kind of reverence, but I assure you, it is not necessary. Purchased sovereignty is not sovereignty at all. One day I bit into a piece of candy and my tooth broke, that is all.

It’s fixed, now. Hail the Queen!

One man’s trajectory, another man’s tragedy.

Thursday, February 21st, 2008

She would have guessed the Novocaine would be the worst part of her day: that deft little needle in her cheek and the roof of her mouth, and the dead sensation that followed.  Pain, she realized, discomfort even, was not the worst part of going to the dentist.  The smell of burning enamel, the terrible squealing sound as they drilled her tooth away, the vibrations that rattled her jaws and every vertebrae, none of those things were the worst part of going to the dentist, or at least they weren’t today.

“If it sounds like someone is working on the roof, it’s because they are,” said the dentist from his perch.  She could hear them walking around above her, pushing ice and snow off of the building in order to remedy damage inflicted by Sister Winter.  All the while during her procedure, she could see ice falling past the window from the corner of her eye.  How was she to know it was foreshadowing?  She simply needed to have her tooth repaired.

Paying a modest fortune to have that tooth repaired wasn’t the worst part of going to the dentist, but she wasn’t aware of that either.  Rather, when she crossed the lobby to exit, her thoughts were consumed with the promise of future dental work, more invasive, more expensive.  “You may need a root canal,” her dentist had said with equal parts regret and hope.  “We’ll see you soon to finish this up.”  She did not want ever to return to the dentist.

Another patient was exiting with her.  They descended the stairs together and listened as the noise of the men on the roof grew louder, their scraping of snow and ice becoming much closer.  She and this other patient were both numb in the face, and they joked halfheartedly together with drooping mouths and stupid tongues. “Do you think they’ll know to stop when we step outside?” The two of them looked nervously up at the overhang from whence blocks of ice and hearty tufts of snow fell at irregular intervals.

Of course they would know to stop–they were professionals, right?  They would surely know when to stop, wouldn’t they?

Perhaps they weren’t professionals, who knows.  But it is safe to say that on this day, for this woman, the worst part of going to the dentist was when she stepped outside just as a particularly dense chunk of ice was pushed from the roof.  It struck her in the back of her skull, and that was it.  It killed her instantly, while the other patient managed to skitter away untouched.  “Hey, look out!” came a cry from the roof of the dentist office, but it was moments too late, the damage was done.  The other patient, although unharmed, turned around and yelled up at the workers, “Are you crazy?”  They didn’t have much to say to that.  But secretly, in the furthest corners of her mind, this other patient was a little bit envious because she, though still alive and with a future full of promise, would continue to make these visits to the dentist, while the other woman would never have to.

Once upon a time I was falling in love, now I’m only falling apart.

Wednesday, February 20th, 2008

There is a lunar eclipse tonight!  I stepped outside to look at it just now, and in the thirty seconds that I stood there watching the moon glow faintly orange and pink my hair froze into icy little Medusa locks (because I had run directly from the shower into the bitter cold to watch the eclipse!)  It is cold these days.  But you’re from Wisconsin, right?  You knew that, right?

Are you from Wisconsin?  I always assume that most people who read this are, but then I look at my stat counters and I become terribly confused (can you tell I am the kind of person who is confused by stat counters?)  According to the stats I average about 80 hits per day, with visits from over 30 countries and countless US cities.  This makes me a little bit skeptical.  All of my previous blogs raked in about 6 or 8 hits a day, mostly from friends whom I begged to read my blog.  I feel like I’m in the middle of some kind of digital hidden camera joke, maybe.  Like, “Watch this girl’s face as she sees her numbers sky rocket!  She been p4wned!”  According to my stats, most of my traffic goes to a single post that I wrote a few months back, and if you’re curious it is this one.  Some how I must have gotten locked into the Andy Gold$worthy circuit.  That’s cool, I still like him, and I only misspelled his name just now so that I wouldn’t mislead the search engines to thinking this post had anything to do with him.  And okay, yes, he’s the money.  He’s so money and he doesn’t even know it.

Mostly I’m just nervous for my dental appointment in the morning.  I’m having my tooth prepared for a crown.  And by “prepared” I mean numbed and then sawed down to a little peg.  Youch!