Yesterday I went to the dentist. I am dental phobic. An extreme case, I admit. Partially, that's because most of the "caine" derivitives are ineffective. The two or three that work take a long time and many shots to deaden the area the dentist is planning to work on. And then just about the time the dentist really gets to going, the shot wears off.
Since my mouth is probably the most sensitive place on my body, this is not good. Yesterday the dentist began with the first of several deep scaling treatments, sans anesthesia. After an endless period of torture, she hopped up, announced that she hoped I had a nice holiday, and reminded me to make another appointment.
When we left the dentist, we went to the Barnes and Noble where I received my "big girl" reward for being good. I acquired several beautiful replacement copies for my worn and tattered Georgette Heyer collection. And I found a calligraphy text for my calligraphy collection.
And then we went to eat dinner before my mouth really started hurting. That usually occurs about three hours after I leave the dentist when all the highly insulted tissue swells up and gets really pissed off.
Ate dinner and headed home. As I was driving along, flicking my tongue around all the sore spots... I discovered that I was missing part of a front tooth. It's a mostly false tooth that was repaired about a million years ago so I wasn't particularly shocked. But I have a sneaking suspicion that I swallowed it with the potatoes.
The other thing is--this is a holiday weekend so I suspect that the dentist office hours are going to be very limited.
And I don't want anyone touching my mouth for any reason until next week. I'm not planning to go anywhere. I'm not planning to see anyone. And quite frankly, I really don't care if someone sees my tooth or not. My comfort is more important than any dubious beauty I might or might not have.
So for the moment, I pretty much look like the tiger. And that's okay.
If you're home for the holiday, have a blessed one. If not, travel carefully.