Note to self- Don’t go to the dentist on April Fool’s Day


I rank going to the dentist right up there with going to the proctologist. Considering I have been to both in the last year (TMI???), I know from whence I speak. 

Today I got three cavities filled. Yay for me! I loathe going to the dentist and have delayed the appointment by two years. My dentist is a qualified and perfectly nice person, it’s just that I avoid anyone doing anything in my mouth nearly at all costs. The drills. The smells. The sounds. Ew

It is not an understatement to say I LOATHE the dentist. Yes, I have written this twice and it might sound redundant. It’s not. It’s called emphasis, people! I’m the kind of patient you don’t want to see on your appointment list. I saw the computer screen and it said I was “high involvement.” That was supposed to mean someone who has three cavities and needs some deeper tooth cleaning but as they learned, I took “high involvement” to a whole new level.

Every time I go to the dentist, I feel it is my duty to inform them how I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY don’t want to be there

But my mother has served as my inspiration. She has learned the hard way. Tens of thousands of dollars were poured into trying to save her teeth to no avail. She had nine teeth pulled in the last year. She has a denture on top and a bridge on the bottom. My admiration for her has skyrocketed because of all that she’s been through. I do not want this to happen to me. 

Her “favorite” part was right before Christmas when she had six teeth pulled out all at once while she was sick. The day after the procedure, she was coughing her head off with poorly fitting dentures and a new bridge. She tried valiantly to shove those dentures back up in her raw mouth and spent three and a half days at the hospital with pneumonia. I followed the ambulance to the hospital! I vividly recall her agonizing attempts to cram those babies (dentures) in her mouth while trying not to die. Talk about multi-tasking! Talk about a blog post! OY

Today, as usual, it took a lot of Novacaine and time to adequately numb my mouth. Oh how I detest needles.  I didn’t feel much better even when she stealthily hid the needle just before jamming it into my gums. 

We tried the laughing gas today too. Having tubing going up my head and having prongs in my nostrils isn’t relaxing, btw. I felt like an electric plug which was a new experience for me. Anxiety beset so we readjusted the stupid thing. I’m not sure it worked. I am sure it was expensive. I think I was my dentist’s April Fool’s Day joke. 

Then while driving I started to feel sick. Not sick like a fever. Sick like nauseated. I took my mom to the doctor and ran into the medical office building. After emptying the entire contents of my stomach into the potty and having momentary loss of bladder function, (TMI???) I emerged wanting to write a haiku about the miserable experience.

Here it is…

Dentist, three cavities
Novacaine, nitrous oxide
Barfed misery

I haven’t written a haiku since high school but it seemed like the right thing to do. I have to go back to the dentist tomorrow because I’m having pain when I bite down on things. I feel another haiku bubbling to the surface. Hopefully that will be the only thing. 

Pity Party and YOU’RE INVITED


Yesterday was the first day of school for my two OS. I picked them up in the carpool line and nearly lost my mind. It was a nightmare. I didn’t know where to go so I think I stopped my van in the traffic line. 

Consequently, mommies that were behind me gave me death rays out of their driver’s windows. (I thought I was in the middle school parking line but I might have been blocking the elementary school parking line, I’m still confused.) By the time my two guys came out of the building, 17 minutes later I was fit to be tied. They had sweet little smiles on their faces, I did not. It wasn’t a great way to greet your kids especially on their first day back to school. 

This morning I told my husband he was going to come with me to pick up the guys because maybe he could explain what I should do. He told me in a kind but firm way that he couldn’t because he had work to do. Oh, really???

That’s when I decided I’d sprain my ankle. That’ll teach him. 

While walking out of the house to get our sons, BY MYSELF, my foot and ankle rolled off my heeled sandals. Excruciating pain began immediately as I frantically hopped to ring the doorbell. Mark ran down the stairs and helped me inside.

I moaned and saw stars which was a problem since it was only 3:30 in the afternoon. So here I sit, unable to put any pressure on my left leg. I’m feeling sorry for myself and my puffed up foot. Misery, agony, despair.

Thusly, you’re invited to my pity party. So far my husband, two OS, my sisters and my mom are joining me. We could take random pictures of my foot. You could bring me a present. Be creative! I’m not too picky. It will be fun!

My husband bought me some flowers, is making dinner – grilled lemon chicken, couscous with toasted pine nuts and grilled asparagus. Feel free to share your ideas! I also like shiny, sparkly things. 

According to my google diagnosis, I believe I have sprained my anterior talofibular ligament. I’ll see the doctor tomorrow. I think the party will still be going strong though. Hope you can make it!