Tag: Dentist

You Should See Me in a Crown

It’s been an eventful birth week. I saved two turtles, got my first crown, and Shea received her first covid vaccine! She was not as excited as I was, so I tried to sell it with perks: “According to some crazy on the people on the internet, you could become magnetic!”
“Mom, no.”
“Or become your very own wifi hotspot!”
“Mom. Stop. That’s not a thing.”
Xander then chimed in, “I can’t wait to get it! I really want magnetic blood!” Fingers crossed!

He was as long as my forearm!

Saturday, as we were driving to pick blackberries, I spotted a giant turtle in the road. “Oh no! There was a turtle! And you didn’t stop!” Justin offered to turn around, but I lamented that he was most likely dead, since 3 vehicles passed us. Justin turned around anyway, and it’s a good thing that he did, because I got to save him! Or her. I don’t know how you tell with turtles. The photo really doesn’t do it justice, but Justin was frantically beeping at me because “cars are coming, and I’m just parked in the road while you take pictures of some random turtle!”

My second turtle rescue happened without photo evidence. A little guy that fit in the palm of my hand was in the road during my dog walk yesterday. I was actually having an “aww, poor dead frog” moment when I realized there was a live turtle that definitely needed my assistance! Of course then my family ruined it when then told me I didn’t really save him, since I put him in the ditch closest to where he was. I was supposed to relocate him based on where he was headed. “I was going to bring him home to show everyone, and relocate him to Isbel, but I didn’t want to take him away from his friends and family.” Justin responded with, “I don’t think turtles work like that.” Sure, that’s what you think, until you relocate a baby 2 miles from his home and announce like the dentist in Nemo, “and I saved him!”

Back to Monday night. I picked up Korean food for dinner, which should’ve been a straightforward task. I just had to walk in and pick it up. But then the woman at the counter asked for my last 4. “Umm….” Panic “the last 4 of my phone number??” I received an eye roll and a yes, but for the life of me I couldn’t remember my phone number! In that moment, I stared at her like a deer in headlights, with Justin’s social, then my social, running through my head. “Wait—I know this. 706-…wait…882…wait…” it was an awkward 2 minutes as I ran through my brain’s Rolodex of every phone number that has ever been mine, or anyone related to me. I was even going to look up my phone number in my phone, but I couldn’t remember how to do that either! Do I call Justin and ask him to tell me?! This is painful. “OH! Wait! It’s…” and I remembered. She was not as impressed with my memory as I was. Please, laugh off this awkwardness. Nope, not even a grin. I also noticed a We’re Hiring sign, and while I would love to work at a Korean restaurant (can I just make kimchi? Teach me how to make everything), I decided that now probably wouldn’t be the best time to ask about it. “How would you like to hire the girl who can’t remember her own phone number!?” Also, I’m not looking to make that mistake again.

Tuesday was Crown Day. I broke a tooth on a peanut butter cup blizzard. Which seems strange, because I don’t know how one breaks a tooth on ice cream. But here we are. I’m sure it had nothing to do with the fact that I grind my teeth and am not always good about wearing my night guard. So, once I was good and numb, the dentist said, “we’re going to try and cram this entire massive contraption into your mouth.” I wished them the best of luck, and tried to open wider and wider and wider. “This isn’t working. I don’t think we can get it in.” That’s fine, because I don’t think I could breathe with a 3-in-1 bite block/tongue guard/suction contraption in there!

When I told Justin this part he said, “what the heck!? They didn’t care that it didn’t fit in my mouth! They just went ahead and crammed it in there anyway!” 
“Didn’t you feel like you were choking/dying?!” 
“YES!!!” And THAT is why you avoid military dentists at all cost (apologies to any military dentists out there, but Justin only ever has horror stories).

While I was waiting for my crown to bake, they temporarily moved me to the waiting room (an x-Ray machine repairman was there to fix the machine in the room I happened to be in, and it was beeping angrily–the machine, not the repairman. I didn’t hear him make any noises). I decided this would be the ideal time to apply chapstick….except that I couldn’t feel half of my face. And there was another human in the waiting room. “Act cool, you can do this,” I told myself, as I attempted to apply chapstick to my mouth when I wasn’t even sure I could locate it. He was most likely watching and thinking, “why is that woman putting chapstick on her chin??”

I was also reading Jenny Lawson’s book while I waited, and I was on the chapter full of awkward things people have done in public, so I was laughing to myself, which I was trying to stop, so it turned into me smiling like Jack Nicholson’s Joker, while crying. Stop it, eyes! Act normal!

By the end of the morning I was the proud owner of one Unbreakable Princess Birthday Crown—or whatever. Who’s no longer going to cut her tongue because she can’t leave her chipped broken tooth alone? This girl! But really, it’s just one more item in my mouth to worry about. I have had zero teeth emergencies in my life, and while I did chip the corner off a tooth that then required a crown, it was destined to happen eventually. That doesn’t stop me from constantly worrying that I will break a front tooth, knock out a filling, or who knows what. Laugh so hard my permanently cemented crown comes flying out and hits someone in the face? It probably can’t happen, but maybe it could. I don’t know. Weirder things have happened.

Don’t Tell Me to Stop

So, my blood pressure has been astronomically high since…honestly, I can’t pinpoint the exact moment, but back in February, my dentist pointed out how dangerously high it was. I take nothing seriously, so at the time I said “ok. I’ll look into it.” A few weeks later when I went back to get a few broken fillings replaced (nighttime Sam has spent over 3 decades sabotaging her smile with grinding), the dentist informed me that my blood pressure was so high, she would only do work on me if I got nitrous. Which was strangely like being drunk at the dentist (honestly, I slept through my dental work). She once again asked me to please see my doctor.

Meh.

Well, here we are, 4 months later. It’s still high in the sky, and I still rarely take these things seriously. Until my doctor last week (during a completely unrelated appointment) said, “I want you to stop taking your antidepressants.”

Umexcusemewhat??

Deer in headlights.

“How long have you been on the Effexor?”

“Um…4 years?”

“And how long has your blood pressure been high?”

“Um…”

“4 years?”

After coming out of the haze of the initial shock, I agreed that I have felt lately like it wasn’t working. But I had mostly chalked that up to other issues: my husband is on the other side of the Earth, I am a year into the full time working mom gig, 9 months into my single working mom stint. I’m a serious introvert, with a lack of a local support system. I am terrible at multi-tasking. And I inherited my Mom’s overactive tear glands.

But really, I get too overwhelmed. And if I cry any more, I might dry out and turn to dust.

I guess. I don’t know. Just when I start thinking, “maybe this week I won’t cry at work,” I have a nervous breakdown in a parking lot over a dented bumper.

So, in order to address my super-high-for-unknown-reasons blood pressure, I have to be unmedicated. For the first time since…shortly after Xander was born. That, to me, is scarier than any blood pressure, heart issue, scare.

I have dealt with/suffered from depression since I was……9? 5? Always? It’s hard to say. Meds have come and gone, and none will ever make me “normal,” but they sure do keep me from shattering plates on the floor because Justin paused too long before telling me what he wanted to drink with dinner (can we talk about the hero of this story for a minute? Because the partners of us mentally unstable squirrels are by far the most under-appreciated at times. And mine has put up with a lot in 13 years, and still sticks around to help keep me sane).

Also, the unmedicated, barely-functioning depression I suffered through while pregnant with Shea (while Justin was deployed), springs to mind. I could be a non-functioning blob before kids–that is not really a state I can enter into while having to be responsible for tiny humans.

I am officially one week into the process of slowly cutting back (so as not to be launched into the head pounding, nightmare-inducing, vertigo causing, withdrawal that this particular medication is known to cause…in me…after one missed dose). I’m still overwhelmed. I still cried today at work (literally because I was told I had to call the help-desk to sort out an employee’s timecard. And then I couldn’t find the number. And then my phone cut out. And then…tears). My blood pressure is still high.

Deep. Breath.

Stay positive.

You can do this.

Dental Therapy

My Mom is by far, the best Dental Hygienist in existence. Of course, I’m possibly biased. All I know is, once upon a time (close to 30 years ago, to be precise), I had my teeth cleaned by a different hygienist in the office where my Mom worked; the experience was not fun. She stabbed my gums a lot, asked a million questions while her hands were in my mouth, and was less than understanding of my small mouth and my jaw’s need to occasionally close.

In the 12 years that I’ve lived away from home, I have still continued to get my teeth cleaned by my Mom during visits home. If I needed work done, I would even wait until visits to do that as well. I have no issues seeing other dentists–it’s the cleanings that worry me. It’s probably the one thing that makes me want to cry like a sleepy toddler: “I want my Mom!!!”

In December, she cleaned my teeth. And pointed out 2 broken fillings (I have some serious clenching/grinding issues). It was time to put my big girl panties on, suck it up, and see a local dentist.

After two months of putting it off, I followed the recommendation of a lifeguard who spent her senior year doing CP (career practicum) in a dental office. And, wow.

First of all, I had a minor panic moment when the hygienist said she was going to take a panoramic x-ray and asked if I had any earrings in–and then looked and said, “oh my gosh. Ok, so, we’ll do everything else, and you can take those all out and we can do the x-ray at the end.”

Of course I had decided to put 90% of my earrings (or 20) in that morning.

You know you’re the daughter of a hygienist, when you become so relaxed during a cleaning that you almost fall asleep. Who needs a massage!? Can I just get my teeth cleaned once a month?!

I have officially met the second greatest Dental Hygienist in the world.

And guess what? Yup, I clench and grind. And broke 2 fillings. And also: Jaw arthritis. Jarthritis?

As an introvert, I think I will use that as an excuse to not have to conduct job interviews: “you know I would love to talk to this kid about why she thinks she would make a good sales clerk. But my jarthritis is really acting up today, and what happens if it stops working and I end up mumbling!?”