Monday, June 8, 2009

Not the crown I wanted

I love my parents and am very glad they are still together after 40-something years. I am happy to be alive. Despite this, I still think there should be a law: two people with bad tooth and gum DNA shouldn't be allowed to have children.

So I was sitting home last week, happily eating a slice of angel food cake, when a tooth exploded. Yes, on angel food cake. The softest food on the planet. Grrrr.... Not that it was the first time this particular tooth had given me trouble. I think the word "tooth" may be a misnomer, since there was more mercury than an old-style thermometer taking up space on my gum. Sigh.

Off I go to the dentist. It took two trips, because just as I sat back in the chair and watched the four foot drill coming at my face, I got a migraine. Not a "oh, I'd really rather not be here" headache, but a full on migraine. Later, when I told her about it, my coworker asked me why I didn't just suck it up and stay. I took a metal chair and crashed it down on her head, poked both her eyes out, poured boiling acid on her exposed skin, and pushed a pickle fork into both of her ears. "Would you like the drill now?" I asked. I guess she took the point, because she peeled her bleeding carcass off the floor and went back to her office.

So I went back and not only got a root canal (although I have to admit it was the most painless ever!), but the dentist did oral surgery! Ack!! When he came at me with the scalpel, I almost peed my pants! Then he ground my jaw bone down. I firmly believe there should be a minimum 72 hour warning period before you have to be near a scalpel. I only got 30 seconds notice.

They put on a little temp tooth which came off a few hours later. Now I have a little post in my mouth where a tooth should be, stitches in my gum (and because they'd run out of clear thread, I have black, rotten looking, stitches), and a greenish bruise on my jaw. I go back this week to get the stitches out and get fitted for a crown, and presumably get another temp.

As if all of this weren't painful enough, they billed me $857! Yes, eight-hundred-and-fifty-seven-freakin-dollars for the privilege of sitting through the process. Why do I pay so much for dental insurance if it still leaves me with an $857 bill?????? Holy tooth decay, Batman!

As I was coming in to work this morning, I remembered that I have a lottery ticket I haven't checked yet. (Can't check it here at Widget Co. --they don't want you to know if you can quit.) Maybe I'm a multi-millionaire and can commission new teeth. More likely, I'm in for more of the same, since I got crappy tooth DNA. Thanks Mom and Dad.

3 comments:

Alissa said...

Ouch, double ouch and triple ouch! (Sorry, but I did have to laugh at your tooth exploding on angel food cake.)

weezermonkey said...

Ugh! Boo to your tooth!

And I can't believe we can't check lottery results. Double ugh.

Amazon Barbie said...

I totally sympathize. I am completely terrified of the dentist. For this reason he prescribes me a light dose of Diazapam for my appointments. I have to take it the night before then 1 hour before the appt. Still doesnt prevent me from crying like a baby but at least I dont have an anxiety attack..lol..