So anyway…

Okay. Whew. I feel like I’ve been put through the spin cycle.
Went to the dentist. Told them about the teeth issues, and my extraordinary phobia. Dentist was very matter of fact and cheerful and okay about the dental phobia thing. I did assure him that I’m not afraid of dentists, but rather of people poking me in the mouth with sharp objects, and he got the joke, so that’s a good thing.
Anyway, he strongly advised against removing all my teeth, and gave several reasons why. He feels that many of my teeth can, in fact, be recovered and that having the natural teeth will help to better anchor the dentures (which, of course, is true). Basically, I’m almost certainly going to lose the front four incisors on the top. Since I’ve lost the four on the bottom, it’ll match. Hah. But it seems that some of my teeth are actually very well set, which was surprising.
There will be four visits to get the “keeper” teeth fixed up, but they’ll use plenty of novacaine so I won’t have to suffer through all that poking and scraping. And they can remove the rotten teeth (okay, not rotten, but you know what I mean) under local anesthetic, which is also fine.
I was also assured that it’s probably mostly biology, as some people are just prone to gum disease more than others. I actually take surprisingly good care of my teeth (since I hate going to the dentist), brush regularly, floss, etc. and yet my teeth are falling out of my head in a few places (Andrew, on the other hand, takes terrible care of his teeth, NEVER flosses, and other than a couple of cavities, his teeth are fine, strong, and healthy, so go figure).
I also need to go to my own doctor and get an order to get a diabetes test (sometimes dental problems are a sign of diabetes, apparently) and while I’m there, I’m going to get a new prescription of Valium. The one I have is actually past the use-by date (I took one anyway, and it seemed to work, but it’s never a good idea to take old medication).
One good thing, though…. A partial dental plate is much less expensive than a full one. I paid about $400 for my partial lower plate, I can’t imagine that it’d be that much more for an upper one (although the dentist recommends that I have the technician make it so that it can be expanded if necessary if I end up losing more teeth).
I also have a confession…. I’ve avoided getting a diabetes test because if I do have diabetes, I don’t want to know about it. See, if I know about it, I have to actually do something about it. If I don’t know, though…. *sigh* Denial of accountability. (Hey, it works for the Prime Minister, after all).
Anyway, that’s the end of that. I’m still a little giddy. When I got up off the chair at the dentist I was actually drenched in sweat and now I’ve got a pounding headache, and I’m still a bit woozy and light-headed and I feel kind of weak. A mad rush of epienphrine (adrenaline) will do that to you…

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I used to think that when I bought new music (as opposed to the old stuff I like, such as the Eagles) it was a good sign that I’m not yet at that “too old to try new stuff” stage. That, by the way, is a stage I never want to get to. You can’t stop your brain from getting older, but there are things you can do to keep it limber, so to speak. I don’t want to get so set in my ways that I can’t try something new.

Anyway, I’m still really enjoying American Idiot. What a great album. And I was thinking, “Hey, I guess it means I’m not too old….”

But, actually, Green Day is a really good example of American Punk Rock, which was first popular, oh, more than 20 years ago. So even though the album is new, the style of the music definitely isn’t. So may I AM old….

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The webcam, she is broken. That’s why I’ve had the same picture there for ages. Sorry about that. I mean, if anyone actually…. noticed.

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I desperately need to vent this. I’m going to try to do it so that I’m not giving away any names or too much information.

There’s a person who has been an absolute bitch to members of this family for months now. The woman is STUPID, she can’t write to save her arse, she’s vindictive beyond belief, she’s a liar of the first order, and she’s like a friggin bulldog with something, she WILL NOT LET GO. She has caused a family rift of EPIC proportions, one that will almost certainly never be fixed, she’s even broken a number of laws.

The fact that she’s still walking around, happily enjoying her pitiful excuse for a life, acting as if she’s the one in the right and everyone else is in the wrong, TOTALLY AND UTTERLY INFURIATES ME.

I sincerely hope I’m able to know about it when she finally has to deal with the consequences of her actions, when she has to reap the harvest she’s sown. I want her to feel the stress, pain, anxiety, anger, and every other negative emotion that she has inflicted on everyone else in this matter, and I hope she chokes on it.
And she had better damn well hope that I never see her again, because I will not restrain myself or my “inner New Yorker” and she’s going to get a verbal flaying the likes of which she’s NEVER going to forget.

That doesn’t really feel much better, but it’s a little better. I don’t think she’ll ever read this blog, and I don’t care if she does or she doesn’t. I just seriously need to vent, and I hope that the Universe is listening, because I’m completely serious. She really had better hope that I never see her in person again. I won’t physically assault her (she’s definitely not worth going to jail over!), but she’ll remember the encounter for a long, long time….

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I’m happy. I have no particular “reason” for it. I’m just happy. I’m happy with my life, I’m happy with my business, I’m happy with my family, I’m happy with myself. All of this can change in the blink of an eye, and I’ll be cross with someone or worrying about something or annoyed with myself. But right now, at not quite one in the morning on 11 July 2006, I feel extremely contented and happy with life, the universe, and everything, and at peace with myself and with God.

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I’m happy to report that I did not, in fact, throw my partial plate away. Whew. I don’t have to walk around for weeks with no lower incisors.

I am, however, still determined to get my teeth fixed once and for all. Andrew’s on the phone now with the dental centre to find out what we need to do to book in, etc. I’ll also of course, have to get a new set of choppers made prior to the surgery.

So I have a dental appointment on the 18th of this month to get an exam, they’ll almost certainly send me for xrays (because I need to have my head examined, ha ha), and then, I HOPE, I can schedule the surgery and get these nasty old teeth out, get the gums healing, and get some nice, functional, non-painful resin choppers.

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Well, the time has come for me to make the arrangements to get my teeth out. This will sound bloody ridiculous, but I’m pretty sure I threw my partial denture away today. I’m still looking for it in the hopes that it didn’t actually go in the rubbish, but I’m pretty sure it did. So, rather than get a new one, I’m going to take this as a sign that it’s time to do what I’ve been needing to do for a long time now, and get my stupid teeth removed.
Having dentures is never ideal, but for me, it’ll solve a lot of problems, including making it so that I will never have to have my teeth poked and prodded with sharp instruments ever again. My phobia about that is pretty severe, it’s one thing I’ve never been able to beat, and the idea of never having to endure the “Oh, crap, I have to go to the dentist” panic attack again sounds like bliss.
I also reckon I’ll have far fewer headaches. I’m quite sure that having a mouthful of diseased gums is not good for me, and I honestly believe that a fair number of my persistent headaches are due to the teeth. So that’s another plus.
AND…. my teeth look pretty crap these days. It’d be nice to have a nice, relatively even, ivory smile again, instead of the mess that my poor teeth have become over the years of studiously avoiding the dentist until my teeth rot out of my head. I’m not a vain woman, but it’s nice to have an attractive smile.
Andrew will be calling our insurance company’s dental centre tomorrow to make the arrangements for the preliminary exam prior to the surgery. He’s going to make it clear that I do NOT want to see a periodontist, been there, done that, many of my teeth can’t be saved no matter how much torture I endure in a dentist chair, and I’m 42 and I just want to be done with it. Take them out. Take them all out. Give me some nice new plastic toofies and I’ll adjust to them and that’ll be that. I’ll submit to a head xray if I must and I’ll let the dentist have a look in my mouth (and I’ll have to take Valium first or I won’t be able to get in th chair *sigh*), and then I want to make the arrangements to get the bloody things all removed. End of story. Case closed.
I hope I can get this arranged relatively quickly. The idea of walking around with no lower front incisors for months isn’t a pleasant one. Most people can’t tell, but still, I feel weird. It’s like going around with no bra on or something. Not a crime, certainly, but not comfortable, and people really don’t want to see that sort of thing…

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