Just call me Daisy

O.M.G. My mouth feels like I tried to catch a softball with my upper lip.

Well, not quite. It's no longer swollen quite that bad. It no longer hurts as bad. And I can feel my nose and cheeks again. Finally.

This morning, bright and early, my dear sister dropped me off at my new dentist's office. (I LOVE him and his wonderful staff, by the way. LOVE, I tell you!) I had an 8AM appointment for my torture session, so I was promptly escorted to the dungeon (second door on my left) by C. (First name withheld to avoid her being charged with assault and battery, or worse.)

C proceeded to make molds of my current teeth and take a few more xrays to base the day's work off of. We made chitchat while she worked. She's a really nice lady and we get along well. Due to an accident in her childhood, she has dental work up front like I was to get, which was a factor in my decision to go the seven-tooth-bridge route. (Sidenote: due most likely to possible celiac disease and/or a preganacy followed by almost 26 months of nursing my son has resulted in diminished calcium and softened tooth enamel. Nursing: quit cold-turkey. Toothpaste and mouthwash: fancy Rx-only with extra flouride, courtesy of my dental hygienist. This all equals major dental problems.)

(Note to self: save the $$$ for celiac testing ASAP.)

Where was I? Oh, idle chitchat and nasty dental molding compound. AND, as a bonus, I was given the privilege of wearing a pig snout for the duration of my four (yes, FOUR) hours of dental work today. Want proof? I happen to have whipped out my cell phone and took a picture of my lovely temporary proboscis. Just for your enjoyment. Cause I'm so purrty with it. The gas tasted like bubble gum.

Then my gums were swabbed with a topical anesthetic, which worked before I could blink. Finally, Dr. H made his appearance. (We had just finished all the prep, so it's not like he was late or anything.)

So he looks around in my mouth again, we discuss the day's treatment, he tells C what tools he needs to start with. Then he tells me I'm going to feel a "pinch". Keep in mind I'm wearing my snout, and have never had dental work of this magnitude done before. The next thing I feel makes me want to slap that poor man. But I didn't. He was stabbing me. In the gums. And possibly inside my upper lip. With a needle. Repeatedly.

By the time he finished my right side and was halfway done with my left, I couldn't feel it. The half-dozen or so reeeeeally deep breaths I took from my pig snout didn't hurt. I didn't even feel the injections he did in the very front. But I tasted it. Oh, man, did I taste it. Eww.

After telling him a little warning of what was to actually come would have been appreciated (so I could have gassed myself up a little more before he began stabbing me in the mouth) and he apologized, he left to see to another patient while the anesthesia took full effect.

After some more prep from C, he was back. By now my lip is swelled to twice its normal size. I feel like I'm carrying a football below my nose. Not that I can actually, physically feel anything at this point. I was numb from the bridge of my nose to the corners of my mouth. Which is a good thing, given what transpires in the next three hours.

After drilling and root-canaling for about an hour, my teeth were proclaimed ready for the next step. During the root canal, he stopped to ask if I had ever seen what the nerve from a tooth looks like, and if I wanted to see mine. I'm a fiend for gross medical stuff (my mom and I have been known to watch surgeries on TLC while eating dinner without batting an eyelash) so of course I had to see it. It was impressive, to have come from a little bitty tooth.

During all the drilling and filing, he asked what type music I like. I told him what we were listening to was just fine with me. (Who can complain about Stevie Ray Vaughn, Blues Traveller, and the Black Crowes? Nothing beats listening to She Talks to Angels and Cold Shot in between the sounds of a dental drill.) At one point, Dr. H rested him hand right on top of my snout. I politely told him that wasn't a hand rest. While laughing at him. Thankfully, he got that I was joking. I was so numb I wouldn't have known he was doing it if my eyes hadn't been open.

After another round of dental molds and some other small tasks, it was time to set my posts and do the buildup for my bridge. Then came the joy of setting my actual bridge. Which wasn't bad, but by then they had taken my gas mask away. Dadgum it.

They cemented my temporary bridge on and did some extra filing to make my upper and lower teeth not scrape each other when I bite down. It turns out I have a really deep bite on the lower half (as in, my lower teeth almost touch the roof of my mouth in front. That deep.) so the back side of my front teeth almost hit each other when I bite down. Especially on the right side.

I get to go back September 14th to get my permanent partial put in. I can't wait. It'll be more durable, as far as eating, and will look even better than the temporary they attached today. Until then, I'm just glad to have whole teeth in the front of my mouth. And that I'm no longer walking around with a duck bill for lips. And that it didn't hurt as bad after the anesthesia wore off as I had anticipated.

The most disappointing part of my day? I couldn't talk them into a tank of nitrous to go. You know. For when I put my toddler in time out and he screams the ENTIRE TIME. For me, not him. To make the screaming less nerve-grating for me. Two minutes in the chair for him. Two minutes of happy-inducing gas for Mommy. They laughed, then denied my request.

Oh, well. I tried. I guess you can't win them all.


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