Halfway There

I already regret choosing titling this piece with "Living on a Prayer" in mind. Now I have to listen to Bon Jovi at 9:30 a.m. What am I doing with my life?

Last week, I was powering through a hefty workload at the office, dealing with the typical jaw pain that comes in and out of my life as it pleases. I figured it would be another case of "Gotchu, sucka, see ya lataaaa!" pain, but it increased ever so sharply to full-on nausea inducing aching. As a person who never has headaches felt one coming on, I knew I was in for a world of pain. My wisdom teeth opened up a can of whoop ass on me.

I had been playing a game of phone tag with my newly chosen dentist due to my work schedule and theirs, but I took a moment out of my day to shut the door and make the call back. I'd had it with the pain and I was almost there. A nice woman helped me make an appointment first thing the next day, and my wonderful boss forced me to go home and rest. I felt awful for many more hours, but was more comfortable being on my couch and knowing in only hours that I would finally be boarding a train to Healthy Town.

I woke up way too early the next morning and still managed to be late driving to the edge of town to find my new mouth doctor. I was so happy to find it both calming and fancy. I dig fancy.

My hygienist brought me back immediately to take many an x-ray. I finally saw the devious little fuckers who have been torturing me for months, and I was surprised to see that they didn't look all that abnormal. In fact, they looked kind of non-threatening. I'd maybe even say cute, but they're fucking teeth.

I got a hardcore cleaning and consulted with the bigwig dentist for which the firm is named. She gave me some important advice about my genetically soft teefies and said they'd have to seal the shit out of them basically. I have no qualms with that. These supple babies have been causing me trouble my whole life. It's about time someone stepped up to the plate and said "Hey, you've got a nice smile, but your teeth are like sponges. Let's counteract that, shall we?"

Other than that, I came away with a super polished grill and a new love for flossing. (I'm obsessed.) I have to most likely get these wise molars removed, for which I have to be referred. They let me choose my referral myself, which is a bamf move if I do say so myself, and I don't say bamf because it's stupid.

Today I have to do some research on referral forms and then I'll be calling my self-selected oral surgeon. I'm still not groovy with the idea of being knocked out, but with many parental pep talks, advice from my sister, encouragement from my man, and a super stellar new dentist, I think it just might be alright.

I'm gonna do this.

The (Almost) End of a Chapter

Well here we are, Friday the 13th. On a day dedicated to irrational fears and bad luck, I can't think of a better day to update you on my own irrationality.

I've been playing this ping-pong for so many months that it seems almost like it's supposed to keep going. "I need to go to the dentist!" "But it's scary." "The dentist will be fine, I've never been scared of him before!" "But what if they tell you you need oral surgery?" "That's okay, it'll be worth it." "BUT WHAT IF YOU DIE UNDER ANESTHESIA?!"

Well, that bold little voice has been silenced rather suddenly by my baby sister's encounter with the teeth doctor. I know it's wrong to use your super awesome sibling as a guinea pig, but she was scheduled to get her wisdom teeth out long ago. Why not use her situation to my advantage by fiercely texting her to ask 5,000 questions and make sure she's alive?

She luckily had a great experience and had nothing but great words to say about the whole of it, and because of that, I feel free to call the dentist to make an appointment. I feel free to visit them without fear of their report. I feel free of this extremely stupid fear that has been weighing so heavily on my shoulders, day in and day out.

I can't wait to cross this off my list and move on to the next gonna, but in a superstitious move, I'm not going to be making any moves until the clock is well past midnight. I don't need any bad luck following me on my journey to wholeness!

Have a great weekend, y'all. See you Monday.

P.S. Would getting my hair cut like this on Friday the 13th be a bad move?

EFF IT, LET'S DO THIS!

(P.P.S. Please don't disown me, Kacey.)

Brush Thrice A Day

Welcome back, everyone! I had an awesome Christmas vacation, and you can check out my recap here, but it's time to get back to the gonnaing.

I'm not afraid of the dentist and I never have been because of great childhood experiences. I was surrounded by lovely hygienists and intelligent dentists who actually had bedside manner. I am afraid of unusual side effects from common things like Tylenol and anesthesia, and I'm also afraid of the unusual in general.

It's because of these latter fears that I have put off going to the dentist for quite some time. I don't fear getting my teeth cleaned, but I'm scared that the bacteria dislodged will land in my blood stream, flow to my heart, and create a deadly infection. I don't fear getting a cavity filled, but I fear having to be "put under" (THAT TERM ISN'T CLOSE TO COMFORTING) to get my wisdom teeth ripped out.

Everyone around me has heard my crazy reasons for aversion, even if they laugh awkwardly at them. I live in a hypochondria spiral, and I've kind of learned to deal with that. It's cool when it expands my knowledge of the medical world, but quite hindering when my jaw throbs with pain because my wisdom teeth have finally decided to emerge. Quite frankly, the time has come to jump out of the spiral and get my damn teeth fixed.

I have a list of dentists I'm going to spend the day researching and calling tomorrow so I can get an appointment. I'm going to lay down the law for whoever the unlucky son of a bitch is and refuse to settle for less than what I'm comfortable with. I will then find the best of the best oral surgeon based on said dentist's references and give that asshole some hell as well. I will grit my teeth (zing) and bear it, even when my hands are shaking because come on, guys. This is just silly. I'm in pain and getting sick because of some irrational (OKAY, ACTUALLY RATIONAL) fears.

We shall overcome, bros. Stick with me to see how it goes!