So while you and Gigi and Scout are oot and aboot in Kansas City having your womandate, I'm sitting here wondering how much my dental check up tomorrow is going to suck. Maybe I should be having wine now, too. I know, I know, it's just a check up to see how I'm healing, but for the love of solid food, I'm just now able to chew moderately well on that side of my mouth. Is he going to rip off the remaining nasty putty to see how I'm healing? Will it hurt? Will I be sore again for days? Will I be back to my oatmeal and slim fast diet? (Which, yes, 2.5 lbs lost is a total bonus because I'm a girl and will take stomach virus if I can drop a few on the quick.) Why isn't this like the Mrs. Marcia Dentist love affair? AT ALL. AT ALL. I mean, remember this email I sent you a week ago when you asked where I had been? (Shudder)
Yo, just got in about 40 minutes ago from what I am officially dubbing “The Worst Dental Visit Ever” and that is saying a lot.
Crown lengthening. Otherwise known as “Good Morning! We are going to cut away at your gums and oh, yeah, bone tissue, for an hour and a half on the very back upper tooth so you have to basically unhinge your jaw like an anaconda to get to it. And, if that wasn’t enough, wait, there’s more! If you like the taste of blood, you’re in luck! Why don’t we just let you swallow enough to make you wanna hurl and to make Dexter get wood? Done and done. But you’re not going home empty-handed. Nope, you get to go home with a wad of putty covering your incisions that tastes like assmatter. And, just so you’ll remember us, why don’t sit at your desk with an ice-pack on your jaw to keep the swelling down, thereby making working really interesting.”Someone hold me.