You will dimly recall that I have been spending a lot of time lately at the dentist's. You will also remember that I do not enjoy going to the dentist, expressing a preference to lick the floor of the men's room at the Dome, although I did not specify a particular night of the week.
Well, I went back today after work. I had had a temporary crown installed in a molar a couple of weeks ago. The permanent one was installed today. They gave me 2 needles to freeze my mouth after they sprayed my mouth to begin the freezing process.
The dentist and his assistant held my mouth open, using some kind of dental dam to make the process easier for them. They gently removed the temporary cap and then put the permanent one in. Of course they asked me to examine the permanent cap and to explore it with my tongue. My mouth still being frozen, I had no idea what it felt like. Hours later, I can report that it feels nice and smooth, porcelain-like.
When they turned their back on me, I got up and ran out before they could think of something else to do to me. Once off the elevator, I called Patricia on the BlackBerry.
"Thware, thoney, AOwl Bee Hommee tsoon!"
"Pardon? Is that you, Bev?"
"Yeth. Mee. Finished at dentith. Dwiving hoan now. See ewe around sixth. Hope ewe serve thumthinth that won't hurth my knew crownt."
"Yes, dear. I thought of that already. We're having fish cakes!"
"Wow! Thath's greath! Kan thardlee waith!"
I got in my car, my tongue hanging out of my mouth like Wile E. Coyote considering a meal involving a roadrunner. My mouth was still frozen. I was probably drooling, not just because I was hungry, but because my mouth was frozen, you big dummy.
The worst of rush hour traffic was over. I got home in about 25 minutes, which is pretty good for that time of night. I walked through the door.
Patricia was sitting in her chair watching Live at Five.
"Hie, thoney. How wuz your thay?"
"Fine, dear. Get your fishcakes."
I made my way into the kitchen and put a couple of fish cakes on a plate. I bit into one. And tasted nothing at all. My mouth was still frozen and my sense of taste was nearly non-existent.
I spent the next couple of hours grimacing, moving my mouth around in strange contortions in a vain effort to get feeling in my face again. How do people use Botox, anyway?
Two hours later, I was able to eat something again and realize what I was putting in my mouth and actually taste food again. My drool had congealed on my shirt in a pleasing drying puddle. And my tongue was no longer hanging out of my mouth like a victim of a neck tie party gone awry.
The hell of it all is that a lot of this was my fault. If I had just gone to the dentist on a more regular basis the last couple of years, I might have avoided all this work and co-pay and discomfort. Like I said, it's my fault.
I vow to floss more often.
I vow to brush my teeth after every meal.
I vow not to eat foods like popcorn that cause my teeth to look like a lunar landscape.
I vow to eat more fishcakes though. Patricia and my mother can have a fish cake marathon and I can eat myself into oblivion.
Or maybe I won't do any of those things.
It is a Bevboy's right to change his mind after all.
See you tomorrow.