I have been a very bad blogger, indeed. But my mother always told me that if I didn’t have anything relevant to say, I should shut my yap. Or we could call it blogger’s block. I actually have some stuff to say, just haven’t been able to say it. Odd, huh?
Anyhoo, I have a big day today. In about three hours, I’m going to the oral surgeon to have titanium dental implants. I’m terrified. No, really. It seems stupid to be afraid of an simple outpatient procedure, but there it is. They have to knock me out, extract four teeth (the front four. Cool, huh? Lucky me.), then put titanium rods in my skull. Hubby then has to drive his semi-conscious, toothless wife from the oral surgeon to the dentist to have new teeth put in.
The bitch about this is that I am in my thirties. Who would ever dream of losing their teeth in their thirties? And it’s not due to any lack of care on my part – it’s a congenital condition. I have known this was going to happen since I was a teenager. Still not cool.
The thing that’s scaring me silly in the anesthesia. The Doc gave me the option of having a local instead of going to sleep, but Hubby and I both knew that wasn’t going to work. In fact, Hubby leans over to the surgeon and says, “You’re gonna want to knock her out. Trust me on this.”) I’m so needle-phobic, I start crying if I get too close to a needle. I tremble at the idea of flu shots. I’m also highly resistant to most drugs. (For example, the last time I had a cavity, I had to have FIVE shots of novacaine. I was talking like Bill Cosby for a day and a half.) So try to imagine me letting a doctor remove my four front teeth, then drill titanium into my skull, while I was awake. Ain’t gonna happen.
But being ‘put to sleep’? I don’t think I need to get into why I’m a leetle bit anxious about it. Any sane person would be.
And the worst part of all? For about an hour (while I’m going from the surgeon to the dentist), I’ll have no teeth. My husband is going to see me with no teeth. I’ve never been a vain person, and my self-esteem is not based on my appearance. But my husband is going to see me looking like something out of Deliverance, and I am not happy about this. At all.
So, next time you hear from me, I’ll have a new smile. That’s the upshot of this thing – I’ll have a completely new smile! No stains, pearly while, pretty. Small comfort, actually, but I’ll take what I can get!
Wish me luck!