I have decided that spending three and a half hours in a dentist chair with two to three people stretching my mouth open while working on one of my teeth is no fun. Not that it takes a lot of brainpower to come to this conclusion, but writing it makes me feel better.
Curse thirty-something-year old fillings that have two new cavities under them and then another cavity, all in the same tooth, that didn’t even show up on the X-ray! The dentist was literally drilling non-stop on that tooth for two solid hours!
Good lord! Where’s the exit?
All this just to get prepped for a crown. And…as if this wasn’t bad enough, the work just had to be on a tooth waaaay at the back of my mouth, which the dentist swears is tiny, while everyone else claims I have a big mouth.
Okay, the irony there is funny.
Anyhow, the work required an additional dose of Novocain. Yes, I’m one of those who like to be numbed. But the job got done. By the end, however, I looked like I’d been slugged in the mouth, it having swollen from being stretched so wide open for that extended period of time.
Eating dinner was interesting, as my mouth, by that time, had decided to refuse to open more than a slit.
Hmmm…liquid diet? Hell no!
After all I went through, I decided that a treat was in order. My family, oldest daughter’s boyfriend and I went to a quaint Italian restaurant where I was mindful to order something I thought I might be able to squeeze into my mouth. After placing our orders, the waiter brought a basket of delicious-looking homemade bread that smelled divine. Without thinking, I got a piece and took a bite, not thinking that it would be impossible to actually chew the hard crust.
Okay, it’s official. I’m blond. But I’ll go with I was suffering from lack of nutrition and wasn’t thinking clearly. Yeah, I like that reasoning.
Anyhow, I must have gotten an unusual look on my face, for my daughter and her boyfriend both eyed me. I explained my predicament and then sat there, bread and its crust dissolving in my mouth to the point that I could finally swallow it.
Yum! How appetizing.
Next, the waiter brought my salad, which I was fairly sure I could eat with relative ease. I placed the first bite into my mouth. As soon as the salad dressing came in contact with the edge of my mouth, I felt a nasty burning sensation, and I winced.
Oh, yeah, forgot that the edge of my mouth split open towards the end of my lengthy visit. Ouch! Let’s hear it for vinegar to remind me of such.
For the remainder of the meal, I ate no crust, avoided getting anything near the side of my mouth that was cut and took my ever–sweet loving time sliding tiny bites of food into the narrow opening between my teeth. Not the most natural way to eat, but hey, I like Italian food and was determined to get some of it in me.
By the time I’d finished half my meal, I stopped eating. Figured I’d gotten enough food in me, and the effort to not hurt myself in the process of eating was getting to be a bit much.
No comments:
Post a Comment