I have clear memory of being a young child, pensive in the dentists' chair, him with jet black hair, overly large head, glasses, good teeth. He said "so, how are the prettiest choppers in town doing?…

I have clear memory of being a young child, pensive in the dentists' chair, him with jet black hair, overly large head, glasses, good teeth. He said "so, how are the prettiest choppers in town doing?" Yes, he asked my teeth a question, but they were shy so remained silent. My teeth must have felt like a pair of nice breasts when some perv asked "well hello, what's your name?" This happened to a girl I knew later in life---she answered "uh, they don't have a name, or .. names. Hello ... the part of me that talks is up here!" 

I assumed that the dentist said that to all the teeth, that mine were about average, but later learned it was pretty much true. My teeth were straight, no gappage, rather big for the size of my head, as were my ears, but generally good. Of course at that age I could not have cared less.

My father however, somewhere around that time, seemed to think I was tending towards bucktoothedness, and advised me to push on my front teeth, in my spare time when no one was looking, or at night while waiting to fall asleep, the idea being, I suppose, to save on orthodontic fees as money was always tight. So I did that, therefore developing my first complex. Or maybe second---I was keenly aware even before that, that my ears were adult sized, by kindergarten. Eyes too. I was certifiably funny looking as it turned out.

--------------------

Fast forward to this year, this month, this week, yesterday ...

In the dentists' chair, being x-rayed and prodded by a hawt hygienist, Jessica, a poster four feet away on the wall describing all the awful stuff that happens when one ignores dental care, like me. Pensive once again. A composite filling installed a couple years ago had fallen out, leaving that tooth, #30 (second from back lower right) sensitive to hot, cold, pressure .. all stimuli really, and on top of that had an obvious infection, causing a dull pall of fairly constant pain from eye socket to ear canal to esophagus. 

Enter the dentist, also Jessica, twice as pretty as Jess#1, youngish, model-bod, best teeth I've ever seen bar none. Doctor Jessica told me, first things first, that #30 was cracked plumb through from crown to root. It was abscessed, duh, and #31 at far back was inflamed. 31, savable with a root canal and crown, but crack boy had to go. I was completely expecting this and ready to get on with it.

Enter the resident strawberry blond, Monique, shortish, attractive but with rather bent canines. She ushered me to another room in back without windows, me, assuming they don't want anyone peering through, witnessing unpleasantness in the extraction quarters. Before surgery, she explained, they must test blood pressure. Whatever and fine, let's get 'er done I said. So, a wrist cuff, and what? 163/102? What the mother eff? Monique turned a shade more pale, or maybe it was my imagination. She grabbed the tester that goes around your bicep ... pump pump pump .. ouch ... 170/107. 

Monique said "you walked in here; we want you to walk out of here" which helped to relax me. Said she was going to try a trick, but if that bottom number wasn't below a hundred it was no bueno. There is epinephrine in the anesthetic which makes the heart rate accelerate, she girlsplained patiently. The trick was half a cup of ice water, which I drank. Three minutes later she did the test again. 

It was higher yet! Didn't look at the number but she told me, and I believed her, as panic attack began in earnest.

Last year we did a job for a lady whose husband had suffered a stroke. His name starts with T. This guy can sit up in a chair, and talk, but he drools and is otherwise completely crippled. Tomorrow we start work for another lady whose husband had a stroke, name also beginning with T. Apparently, as a result, he now has "aphasia" which means he cannot communicate verbally, but can still blog. Tr ig, would rather have an anvil fall on his head ala Wiley Coyote than to suffer such a fate.

Snaggletooth Monique sent me away, 'script for amoxicillin in hand, advising I see a doctor, or maybe go to the emergency room, but instead I came home, downed a Modelo, sat back in the barcolounger, and practiced meditation .. a thing girls do that I've heard of. Couldn't hurt I surmised. After a short time I tested my BP with Asia's wrist gizmo. 130/82 ... called my son the Navy medic. He said it might not be that awful. This morning, tested again ... 120/55, which is around what it's been all my life, thus my surprised consternation yesterday. 

Which brings me the point of this story. I am far too young, pretty, talented, busy ... to die or become an invalid, but too hard-headed and stoopid to take care of myself.

It's a conundrum.

Below .... ART! 

 

Views: 298

Comment by Drew-Silla on March 15, 2017 at 4:36pm

It's definitely admirable of him, Amy. If Trog would just come clean now about his goat-eyed unitesticle we'd have full disclosure.

Comment by tr ig on March 15, 2017 at 4:51pm

E .. the homEo path, dammit. To each their own, but I always imagine a couple of guys with bushy Tom Selleck moustaches making out and it makes me effing cringe. For whatever reason I have a lot less problem with girl/girl, especially in a me and them live conversion fantasy sort of way. Could happen. As if.

Comment by Foolish Monkey on March 16, 2017 at 1:52am

but probably not while getting your teeth cleaned. 

Comment by koshersalaami on March 16, 2017 at 6:32pm

Unless under one Hell of a lot of nitrous

Comment by Theodora L'Engle Knight on March 18, 2017 at 11:32pm

hey, are you competing with me in the long title department???? i love it.

wow, the dental stuff... so glad for you that there were so many gorgeous gals with big tits to distract you from what was going on. seriously. my dentist is very handsome, which i enjoy. the hygienists are lovely if i ever decide to diversify my portfolio.

my children dentist was an asshole and a sadist. i had cavities under my fillings!! so he had to drill them all and then do it all over. i couldn't only eat bananas. no sweet sweets. -- shit, no wonder i LOVE chocolate and other sugar much too much. he wanted to fix me up with his son. we were both 16 i think. and jewish. i didn't want to go out with him. my dentist hated me from then on.

love love love the art.

yes, the drooling and the aphasia and all of that is not pretty and very scary. it's not fun but if you take good care of yourself. well, except for my father. he exercised like crazy. his diet wasn't great. massive stroke on the way back from a shrink convention. but shrinks mostly deserve what happens to them. and there was a huge family history.

i don't see you being toothless and drooling, trigger. you're too feisty and stubborn for that.

Comment by tr ig on March 19, 2017 at 9:31am

The ART is minimalist isn't it, lots of room to breathe, open for interpretation, but not this title.

Thank you for visiting Theodora (and one and all) and for not taking my long title for an insult. I do admit attempting humor but, ah, it doesn't come to me naturally. I think I try too hard and so does my analyst, Kerouac Jack.

What a gorgeous day here in Flyoverville! Sunday Sunday Sunday! Last night we went for dinner and cocktails at our new favorite restaurant, The Dirty Bird. It's a bar really, non-descript and hidden from view in one of those tacky mini-malls. My neighbors recommended it. They are Jewish but eat bacon like it's candy. Well, not long ago, a young man lost his life in the parking lot of The Dirty Bird, shot in the head. Everyone has guns these days and it's so scary knowing that instead of threatening to kick your ass, or kicking your ass, they are such chicken shits that it's straight to the gun. The Saturday night pool tournament ... I was interested in participating, but the whole city blew it's proverbial load the day before .. St. Patrick's, so very few had anything left; there weren't enough people to hold the tourney. But, I talked to the young fellow that organizes and administrates the thing, and asked him about the murder. He was in fact right there when it happened, and not only witnessed the awful scene, but got three bullets in his vehicle, and additionally got side-swiped by the shooter as he amscrayed, in a big hurry as you can imagine. Max is his name, and he pointed out, with some semblance of compassion, that him having to pay an insurance deductible is small Irish potatoes in the larger context of some poor lad losing his life. Eye witnesses galore, surveillance camera footage of the whole scene, a vehicle escaping with, I assume, a license plate, and still, the shooter is at large Max says. My view is that lightning never strikes twice in the same spot, plus I'm not the type to argue or fight over pool, or women, or anything small in the big picture, so the odds of anyone discharging a heater in my direction are minimal. Guns Guns Guns .. we sure do have our freedom don't we. We still living that is ... not the kid who thought he was out to have fun on a Friday night at The Dirty Bird, never to return home. 

Comment by Theodora L'Engle Knight on March 19, 2017 at 7:16pm

trigger you are very funny. and you know it. thanks for realizing that i was kidding around. i felt like it was a kind of Sincerest form of flattery thing. too grandiose for me. but whatever. kerouac was known for his psychology insight. but, hey, people are complex,

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