The Wild West Island

Post-op update.

I sat for all of five minutes in one of the nicest waiting rooms I've ever seen in my life. Gorgeous red leather chairs, tasteful art work on the walls, sculptures of healing hands, free wifi, and would you believe a coffee pod machine! I found it odd that the pen I was given to fill in the medical questionnaire was so crappy. Turns out it was a deterrent to me writing my life's story.

Much to my dismay, I was called into the "operating room" before I was ready. What's the point of a nice waiting room if you don't get to wait in it?

On the other side, things were rather clinical but still tasteful. An assistant set me up in a chair soooo comfy-cosy I could've had a nice nap. She bustled about the room giving me post-op instructions when all of a sudden this tall cowboy walked in. He was wearing blue jeans and a kelly green gingham shirt with what looked to be a little pink cowboy on the front pocket. I can't remember if he wore a hat or not but I can assure you, he looked exactly like this.

"Howdy ma'am. What seems to to be the trouble?"

"I broke a tooth."

"Don't you worry about a thing. We'll get it out for you."

And get it out they did, the cowboy and his posse. Six hands taking care of my every need, kind of like a French restaurant where the service is so good, you only have to take a sip of water before someone is hovering with a pitcher ready to refill your glass. In this case, all it took was for a little gurgle, a trickle of drool slipping out for not one but TWO suction technicians to make it disappear. I swear, there was no splatter to be found when I got home.

I must say it was odd, this tooth extraction experience. There were so many people in the room at one time, I felt like I was at a cocktail party having to make small talk. Overall though, it was a really good experience considering why I was there. Cowboy Gingham to the rescue!

Think I'll go early for my follow-up appointment to have extra lounge time in that lovely waiting room. I'll take lots of pics and maybe even sneak one of the cowboy hat. Yee haw!

Pieces

I broke a tooth over a week ago, badly. A huge chunk of molar fell from the sky disrupting a perfectly lovely dinner party. Of course, it would happen on a Friday. It always happens on a Friday or a holiday. After an angst-filled week-end, my dentist finally called me back on Monday and had the nerve to give me the verdict over the phone. It has to come out. Not. I went to see another dentist, a boy wonder who at least had a good looky around and took an x-ray before saying exactly the same thing as my dentist. It has to come out. Shit.

The tooth is near the front. The space where it used to be will show when I laugh out loud, and at the opera when my head lolls back in my seat. I mean, I already have a decent sized gap in the front, one with a penchant for blueberries, broccoli, poppy seeds, sometimes an entire shish kabob. This new gap will be like a black hole in comparison. To replace the molar, if that's even possible, will cost a small fortune in emergency money. Should I opt for esthetics, function or simply suck it up and embrace the universe? 

I'm thinking a lot about my clients since it happened and the huge losses they have to cope with on a daily basis: amputated limbs, diseased organs, loss of autonomy, poor quality of life, the loss of life itself. I'm only losing a tooth, for goodness sake. I took it for granted, I ate lots of candy and am paying the price. 

Riding a wave of sadness right now and regretting all the times I neglected to floss. Think I'll suck it up a little later.