After fours years of being out here in the desert, I have finally made myself go to the dentist. I know, I know. Four years is a long time in-between visits. (I won’t mention that it’s actually been about a year longer than that since I was last seen be a dentist.) One of my fillings broke, leaving part of my tooth exposed, not to mention the tooth a bit rough where it had been filed down for the filling. It wasn’t hurting, but I knew that it wasn’t good to have a drilled tooth exposed. Darn it.
As I have gotten older, I have found myself afraid or squeamish of more and more stupid little things: spiders, insects, and the dentist. I never enjoyed the dentist before, but now I am actually afraid to go. I know that my teeth are going to need a little work, therefore I don’t want to go and experience the pain and the numbness. Because I ignore the fact that my teeth need work (not a lot, mind you), they get worse and I avoid the dentist even more. After all, more work is going to be needed, right? It’s a vicious cycle!
Regardless, I got my hinder in gear and went to a dentist that Patsy goes to. She hates needles, and for many years she had work done without any anesthetics or painkillers of any kind. The dentist drilled and filed and filled without doing anything for the pain. I realize that she has a high pain tolerance, but I figured that if she could withstand that kind of treatment without painkillers, that he probably did a really great job with her teeth. So I made the appointment and went.
The news wasn’t as bad as I thought on one hand, and it was worse than I thought on the other. I thought that I’d just have to get my tooth re-filled, but it turns out that the tooth is not “stable” enough for a filling. I have to get a crown. A crown! A fake tooth! I don’t like this, not one little bit. At least it’s a molar and won’t be seen that well, even when I smile. The good news was that there are no new cavities or any other work that needs to be done to any teeth that don’t already have a filling. Yay! I take care of my teeth, and they are fairly strong, and finally it’s paid off!
One of my fillings is cracked and will need to be redone, but it’s probably twenty years old, so that’s not too bad. That’s it! Not too shabby. You see, I am paranoid about my teeth. I brush and I floss and I brush and I floss. I have nightmares, though, that my teeth fall out. They don’t just fall out in my dreams, though, they actually *crunch* out. Yes, I bite down and they are so brittle that they crunch and fall out. Fortunately, it’s just a dream, but still! It makes me paranoid. One would think that that would have been enough to get me to go to the dentist years ago. Heh.
I had my temporary crown put on today. Ack! He drilled and filed and filed and filed. Because this particular tooth had a deep filling, one side of my tooth was part of the filling. (The last dentist I went to was not the brightest light on the christmas tree, if you know what I mean. I’m pretty sure that more was drilled deeper than it needed to be.) This meant that the structure was weak, and he had to file some of the bone and the gum tissue around the tooth. It sounds awful. It felt funky, and it looked weird! (I asked to see my tooth after that work so I knew what it would look like pre-crown.) However, I’m 33. My genes pre-determined that I would have less than perfect teeth. What can a girl do?
So I have a little crown on one of my molars. No big deal. I can live with that. I think. (It’s the coming-down-off-the-numbness stuff that freaks me out the most! Not to mention that because he sawed off some of the tooth and gum tissue, I should expect some tenderness and soreness, read “pain”, when the numbness goes away.) I’ll have a new filling to replace an incredibly old one. Not bad. I’ll get my teeth cleaned in a week or so. Even better. Considering I hadn’t been to the dentist in years and years, the outcome wasn’t too dreary.
Now that I have a great dentist, I can get myself to there every six months for a cleaning and check-up. I can do it! I know I can.
I have been eating like a madwoman. It’s as if my body (or subconscious) knows something that I don’t know—maybe my last breaths are going to be taken in the near future. No, no . . . I am going to go into hibernation this winter and I will, of course, need some extra fat stored up to keep my body fed! That must be it.
But truthfully, I’m not sure what is wrong with me. I just can’t stop eating. Everything. I am normally able to withstand a few cravings here and there. I can fight off the thoughts of chocolate, cakes, and McDonald’s french fries.
Not the last two weeks, though. I have stuffed myself with anything that I can get my hands on. I don’t stop at just a taste, either. Oh, no. I must eat and eat and eat until I am absolutely stuffed. (Don't worry, though, I brush after every meal!)
It’s not surprising that I just put on five pounds in the last two weeks, is it? Good grief! I better get some thoughts into my head about how evil this stuff is before I sink myself right into the ground. Heh.
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