My Life

Sunday in the Park with Brian: Therapy Session #33 (The “Yet Another Example of My Inability to Function as an Adult” Version)

Dearest Friends, Casual Acquaintances, and Past Lovers Who Pine for Me Endlessly (at least in my imagination):

Some of you are aware that my tormented soul was tormented even further by an unplanned (and unbudgeted) root canal a mere three days ago. (If you are not aware, all you have to do is review my recent missive wherein I whined about such by clicking on the “previous over-sharing” button which should appear at the end of this post.) Of course, if you click on said button, this will be an admission of guilt that you have missed one of my posts, and there may or may not be fallout in our tenuous digital relationship. The blogging world is a fickle planet, and the slightest hint of insurrection can lead to accusations of malfeasance.

I have no idea why I typed that last sentence, with its overt drama and lack of provable substance or worth. Oh wait, yes I do. In the elusive previous post which you may or may not have perused, I mentioned that I was given tantalizing drugs to help me recover from the fact that my oral cavity had been violated by a cadre of dental technicians hell-bent on ripping things out of my mouth. (“He’s not bleeding enough. Somebody go find that rusted bone-saw so we can get bonus points!”)

I’m blaming said drugs for what transpired a few hours ago.

Partner and I were firmly ensconced on separate couches in front of the Altar of the Omniscient TV, positions we often assume because our lives are barren and yet we don’t have the fortitude to better ourselves in any way. We were working our way through the copious selections that had piled up in The Sacred DVR when I made a poor decision. In the addictive midst of an episode of “The Dead Files”, I had a sudden, overwhelming desire to consume low-healthy, high-fructose candy that would not benefit my life in any measurable way. Because we are nutritional heathens, there were roughly 700 options within our domicile from which I could choose.

I opted for one of those small, snack-size boxes of “Dots”. For those of you who are unfamiliar, “Dots” are hardened-gelatin globules that essentially resemble those domed gum-drops that one is supposed to destroy in order to succeed in a “Pac-Man” video game, a reference point for those of you who were actually alive when said video game was all the rage. (I fully understand that such an audience is dwindling, but I trust that a few of you will make the connection before we all totter off into infirmity.)

Since the mini-box only had a storage capacity of five or so, I felt confident that I could successfully navigate my way toward a sugar coma. Granted, I could only chew on one side of my mouth, what with the horrid after-effects of the root-canal on the other side still sending out warning signals, but I’d been to this rodeo before and my confidence was high. Surely I could persevere.

This proved to be yet another lie I whisper to myself in the vain hope of ignoring reality.

I consumed three of the five Dots without a care in the world, smacking and chawing away with the fortitude of one who has eaten things he shouldn’t for decades. I was tender with my mastication, delicate even, exhibiting a lover’s finesse as my taste buds reveled in the glory of pointless sugar triggering happy synapses. On the fourth Dot, something went awry.

I quickly surmised that there was something a bit recalcitrant in that fourth Dot. Something which did not care to be consumed. Sadly, after a bit of dramatic choking and spitting into my hand, I found myself staring at a crown that had previously been anchored in my gumline. Interestingly, said crown was not the temporary crown that was perched atop the root-canal of three days yore. Of course not, because my life sucks. My glucose gluttony had resulted in an older, supposedly-permanent crown becoming unmoored on what should have been the safe side of my mouth.

Such fresh hell.

I alerted Partner to the situation, and he raced to retrieve a tube of mostly-empty tooth cement that he still had on hand after his own bit of dental truculence. After a round of squeezing and squirting (complicated by me having to figure out exactly how the liberated crown was meant to position itself in my naughty mouth), things were back in order, albeit temporarily, as it was now obvious that I would soon be making a return visit to my dentist, wherein I would have to confess my sins.

For now, I am unable to chew with any admirable degree on either side of my mouth.

There is a single Dot remaining in the snack-size box, a tiny receptacle which I have placed on the kitchen table as a warning sign that I cannot be trusted. Of course, said harbinger is essentially pointless, as I’ve already proven that I might be a bit lacking in the Common-Sense World Cup.

I would imagine that I’ll be having a lot of soup for the next few days until I can get an appointment with the Hitler Dentist. In the interim, I’m sure I’ll fall asleep tonight to the sounds of the Final Dot laughing maniacally in his little box…

 

Cheers.

 

42 replies »

  1. Did you piss off Murphy?? Oh my goodness!! During a recent trip to the store of groceries — both healthy and unhealthy…where they have two aisles FULL of sugary coma inducing treats that are supposed to show your loved one that you LOVE them because you’re giving the gift of latent diabetes, tooth decay and hyperactivity; I spotted something that was made, no doubt, in the same kitchen where your evil Dots were born. This treat is called JuJu Hearts and is a cherry dot formed into the shape of a heart. I was in the midst of consuming some more of those (I like them slightly hardened for my own maximum pleasure, but their siren call has led me to eat a hefty amount that’s still ‘too soft’ (think Victor/Victoria and Leslie Warren spitting out chocolates muttering “too soft” (which was highly disgusting and I digress)) I’m now terrified to put one of the damned things in my own pie hole, lest Murphy is on high alert and causes something similar to happen to me as did you. I have an artificial tooth (crown? mebbe, but some assh*le in olden times actually broke that tooth off and then shoddily put a crown over it. I almost got blood poisoning from the decay that ran rampant under that ‘crown’..ooops digressing again) that faux tooth has been causing me a bit of pain and terrifying me one evening with bleeding copiously. I’m sure there’s something wrong under there (again), but with the empty coffers at Casa Bee Cee, I’m NOT going to the dentist (yet). Thank you for your very timely warning in the form of an incredibly good story. I think I’m going to fling those heart shaped chewies in the garbage and then take it outside to the big bin of nastiness where I won’t be tempted to retrieve them later… My sympathies sir. Just remember “it’ll all be behind you soon and you’ll have this nifty story as a parting gift. IF that’s of comfort..

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh my. Your tragic Dental Tale sounds much more taxing than my own. (I still reserve the right to whine and moan about it, because it’s one of my defining qualities, but still.)

      And since we’re being honest here, I have been the victim of those very JuJu Hearts of which you speak. Okay, perhaps victim is not the right word. They did not ring my doorbell, I rang theirs. I apparently have a predilection for high-fructose globules, and when I encounter such in a retail establishment, I go into a fugue state and later find myself in my car, clutching an enormous bag of Things Which I Should Not Stick in My Mouth. It’s one of my many sins.

      I fully understand the avoidance of the Cost-Exorbitant Dental Clinic, as my “retirement” dental plan was apparently devised in 1879 and no cost-of-living adjustments have been made. Ain’t no real money in that mess. I have to make personal decisions about which tooth is the most annoying and go from there. We live in the richest country in the world but you wouldn’t know it based on how little the little man is cared for when it comes to the basics…

      Like

  2. Hysterical! I had a crown that broke and I glued it together with super glue. I just didn’t have time to go to the dentist and the super glue worked fine.
    My work partner and I were driving down the street after a horrendous day and I could feel my crown coming apart. I put it in my hand and told her that we needed to stop by a drugstore. When she asked why, I showed her my half crown in my little paw. She held out her little paw and had her implant that had just fallen out after our last run. 😂
    I successfully glued my crown on for long time…until one day…I ate it. ☹️

    Liked by 1 person

    • Now you have me all worried about swallowing both the temporary crown atop my recent root canal as well as the older crown I cemented back into my mouth using the outdated tube of adhesive that my partner found shoved in the back of the medicine cabinet.I suspect that I will not sleep through the night until both of them are firmly welded into place. Thank you for the nightmares, Miss Laurel. Said with love, of course… 😉

      Liked by 2 people

      • You’re so welcome! LOL. (Said with love, too.) Shucks….I glued mine on for almost five years before I swallowed it.
        I have never minded going to the dentist..I just didn’t have time. All those torture tools never bothered me. Hell, if I didn’t have to hold my mouth open, I could go to sleep in the chair.

        Liked by 1 person

  3. Poor you, teeth problems suck. BUT dont suck when they break, you might swallow it. My teeth are prone to splintering, due to medications from childhood, and i have a multitude if sharp points that annoy my tongue. Sometimes i take the nail file to them, but i don’t recommend self dentistry generally. Hope your all toothed up again soon.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I’m thinking that perhaps I shouldn’t know any more about your self-filing. Not judging, of course, as I firmly support the concept of artistic expression, but I really don’t want to be called as a witness in a court of law…

      Prosecuting Attorney: “Tell us what you know about the defendant’s proclivity for home-based dentistry.”

      Me: “I know nothing. Nothing at all.”

      PA: “I sense that you are engaging in subterfuge.”

      Me: “I’m the person responsible for Bonnywood Manor. Of course I engage in such.”

      PA: “Are you making this about you?”

      Me: “Yes.”

      Liked by 1 person

      • 🙂 I am an impatient sort – and a DIYer 🙂 Fear Not, I shall never mention that I told you about my unprofessional dental practices.

        Brian knows, Brian knows, lalalalalala – Oops, did I mention that I find it hard to keep a secret?

        Liked by 1 person

  4. I do not yet know of your root canal. I’m reading posts in reverse chronological order. (That’s just the way it has to be). But I’m already cringing at this episode. The anticipation of tooth pain can be horror enough. Hope your dentist is gentle and gives you lots of drugs.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I know exactly of which you speak, this reading of posts in reverse order. You may have your own explanation, but mine is this: I often get so woefully behind with my reading that when I finally get to one of my fave bloggers, I simply find the latest post and work backwards. This can lead to my comments being a bit awkward, but I persevere.

      (And yes, the dentist was tolerably gentle and there were drugs. Praise be.)

      Liked by 1 person

      • Glad all good with the tooshipegs, will hopefully get to that post today. On the laptop I open the Reader and scroll back to where I was up to, then open each post in a new tab. But doing that via my phone is a lesson in frustration, plus when I go back to the Reader, it often jumps up to the top again. To keep finding my chronological place makes me smash up stuff. So I’ve resigned myself to going backwards as I can read more on my phone, whilst I’m at work (yes, it’s that kind of job!). 😊

        Liked by 1 person

  5. There are those urges that are nigh unto impossible to ignore – and how ‘bout you keep your imagination reined in here? One is chocolate, which is generally quite safe unless it’s secretly hiding a big lump of caramel. One is Black Crows – not Dots for me, but they have much the same effect. Some urges need to be satisfied only in private. And carefully.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yep, you need to get your hole filled, if you’ll pardon the graphic imagery that might ensue. I have a love/hate relationship with dentists (mostly hate, to be fair), which means I can go long periods without visiting one. Of course, those long periods are the very reason why I have sudden and violent issues…

      Liked by 1 person

  6. Oh geez, that’s the worst! Though I have to admit I kinda saw it coming, beings how Dots are evil. Though their wickedness is nothing compared to Mild Duds, which you were wise enough to avoid. (If the dentist gives you a hard time about the Dots, point out you weren’t eating Mild Duds. He’ll give you a pass.)

    Liked by 1 person

    • True story: Immediately after my eye-opening experience with the errant Dot, I immediately rounded up all the remaining mini-boxes of Dots AND Milk Duds that we had about the house (there was a post-Halloween sale that was extraordinary, and we stocked up enough to get us through the century), shoved the mini-demons into a gallon-size plastic bag, and ordered Partner to take them to his workplace, pronto.

      The bag is still sitting on the kitchen table.

      I think Partner has an issue with me that might need to be reviewed during Couple’s Therapy…

      Liked by 1 person

  7. I’m surely destined for hell. I laughed when I got to the part of “there is a single Dot remaining in the snack-size box”. omg – that would have been my thought too … there’s one left mocking me. Well that, and the fact that I had a similar incident except it involved a chipped molar resulting in the need for a cap.

    Kindred spirits 😏

    Liked by 1 person

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