So now I have a gold crown. And it's not because I'm a pretty, pretty
princess.
Couple-few weeks back now, I was sitting peacefully with my friends,
eating some chicken strips, when one of my teeth just -- came apart. I
didn't feel it break, there was no pain, no discomfort, anything -- I just
suddenly found a disconcertingly large chunk of tooth in my mouth and then
the huge crater where it used to be. Upper right quadrant, all the way
back. I sat there for a moment completely freaking out over this.
Please wake up, I kept saying over and over in a frantic whisper,
convinced this was a nightmare. Please wake up.
I got in to see a dentist -- many thanks to
treebyleaf and
retcon for
recommending a good one, and thanks also to treebyleaf for loaning me
money to do it until I could sell some stock.
The dentist in question was Vicki Fidler, a specialist in patients with
dental phobia. Her first words to me on seeing my tooth? "Wow, you
really did a number on that one, huh?" Thanks, doc. Real comforting.
So as soon as they could fit me in, I had a temporary crown put on.
Nitrous was interesting. I was perfectly aware that, yes, there was
indeed a dental procedure of some kind going on in the room. Didn't
really seem to have anything to do with me, though, so I pretty
much ignored it.
Pain kicked in when the drugs wore off, and Riff and treebyleaf both
convinced me that I needed to eat something, whether I really wanted to or
not. So they took me to a grocery store and wandered around with me as I
tried to puzzle out: What was neither hot, nor cold, nor needed to be
chewed at all?
So as I was sitting in the back seat of their car spraying Easy-Cheez
directly into my mouth, I admitted: "This is not my proudest moment."
----
All is well now, though. I went in a couple of days ago to have the
temporary crown taken off, and the gold one put on. The dentist
apologized for the delay -- she wasn't satisfied with the first gold
crown the lab sent, and sent it back to have them redo it -- but I assured
her that I was, in fact, greatly mollified to know that she wasn't simply
willing to just slam whatever vaguely tooth-shaped object they sent her
into my head.
Changing out the crowns was no trouble at all, and I was able to go grab a
burger right afterward. Much yaaay.
Weirdly enough, I really like the way the gold tooth feels -- my tongue
likes to play with it. And it looks fabulous, too. Bling bling, y'all.