GREY MATTER LIFE

Waking up each day to discover that I am still in Hell has been toping my “Things I dread” list. Like a chemistry experiment gone bad, mixing a never ending monsoon of rain and thunderstorms with my ‘two more holes and I’d be a bowling ball head’, the outcome is pretty ugly. In my former life when I did not closely resemble an evolving bowling ball, going to the dentist topped my list of things I dread. 

In fairness to the Dentist, it’s getting my teeth cleaned that I dread the most. I’ve needed the Dentist for two minor fillings and aside from needing a warm blanket, a nurse to hold my hand and crying about the Novocain injections, I would say that overall it went well.  Nevertheless, every six months I talk myself out of rescheduling since cancelling would be irresponsible, and I haul myself into the office. 

I went last week for my cleaning like the responsible (sort of) chick I am and of course it’s raining and I have a killer headache and I know that the hygienist is going to incessantly talk to me (which I hate) and I think that I would really rather be in my car with screaming kids in Atlanta traffic than be there.  I refrain from rescheduling on the spot and my blood pressure begins to rise. 

I’ve discovered in the past year, that having my teeth cleaned means enduring the incessant talking and insane commentary about what I’ll need to know about if I start Radiation therapy or Chemotherapy and how it can all ruin my teeth, etc. Which all makes me wonder…? Do you think we can cover all that when we need to? I mean, really. The experience of being there is stress enough; do you think I can just have my teeth cleaned without having you talk and ask me questions about my brain surgery and tumor? Because, if you can’t stop talking and asking me about my head, I will require a warm blanket, a nurse to hold my hand and an injection with something in it for the pain. Come on!

Getting your teeth cleaned, like we all know, is all about following commands. We were on a roll and it had not been that bad. I had won praise for my immaculate gum care, for which she stated must be a result of my flossing daily. That would be a NO, but why open a can of worms. The fancy electric Oral-B toothbrush clearly does its job if I’ve got her fooled. No harm, no foul. So imagine my surprise when she says open (and that was it) and I open my mouth and she practically drowns me. How about “Open, here’s some water” like you always have? It’s like she had a brain fart after she said Open. All I got was open. Sitting up, spitting and coughing water all over the place and gaging she’s all shocked saying “I thought you knew I was giving you water?” Well, no I didn’t… you never told me! I look at her and say “How was I supposed to know? All you said was open.”  

So the rest of the time there, instead of having to listening to her babble about dental care while on Radiation and Chemo and what I need to know and asking me annoying questions, I got to hear how “I can’t believe you didn’t know I was giving you water.” Well, I didn’t. So, silly me may need to ‘reschedule’ that next appointment you just booked for me and find myself a new hygienist. 

Oh, and by the way, just in case you were curious… it’s still raining, thundering and lightning and I still have a headache. I am living in Hell.