I've been phoning in my blog over the past few days, and for that I apologize. Look to the future for my response to Victoria's Secret's recruiter, as well as my Cranky Fat Bitch Emails to Sports Authority, The North Face, and all those sportswear stores that need to market to bigger people.
I went to the nutritionist on Thursday and reviewed my blood labs from November. I'm healthy as a horse! With the exception of a little low thyroid activity, I'm what my doctor described as "Michael Jordan" - low in bad cholesterol, average in good cholesterol (which I can amp up with more excercise, since it's produced by the body), and just a superstar in all arenas. I could retire from basketball, play some baseball, retire again, play basketball, retire, golf, then own a team...if I wanted to. So that's good.
I also went to that Tim Whatley-esque endodontist last night to get started on my root canal. It was pretty funny stuff. The hygienist and I hit it off: when Whatley suggested that I needed a wisdom tooth removed before they could crown my root canal tooth, she slipped me some news under the table as soon as he left the room.
Hygienist: (Eyes widening for emphasis as the man-in-charge leaves) Let me tell you this; your dental plan won't cover a full wisdom teeth extraction and this root canal, and the crown. Where do you live?
Me: Oh hell. Irving Park and Pine Grove.
Hygienist: I know a good oral surgeon near Belmont and Sheffield; he won't jack up the prices and he's just a good guy. I used to work for him.
Me: Wow, that's great. I'd love his number; I was looking at this other guy my dentist recommended.
Hygienist: What's his name?
Me: Something with a Z? Downtown?
Hygienist: Oh, Z----? He's good, too, but it's up to you. I'll give you this other guy's number. I let him remove my kid's teeth.
Me: Okay.
Hygienist: (Leaning in, telling me a secret best kept between friends) And let me tell you this - no one will tell you this, but I will: Have them charge your anesthesia against your medical insurance so you don't eat up all your dental coverage.
Me: Oooh, good idea!
Hygienist: No one will tell you this, but I will.
Add that conversation to the laughs we got out of the lame smooth jazz music in the background and her ex-boyfriend-who's-about-to-get-married still calling her cell phone, and you got two new pals.
The procedure was fine, went VERY quickly - definitely not like Glen Schepers, DDS. And he didn't hold up every medieval tool and describe its job in detail like GS DDS, either.
"I'm going go into the roots of your tooth with this little file and it's going to help me scrape out all that dead tissue. We're gonna clean that up and put some medicine in it, then when you come back in a few weeks, I'll stuff those nerve canals up with rubber cement."
I hear it in my sleep.
Though soon into the drilling, the bit fell out of his drill, which didn't hurt me but freaked him out. He stopped drilling, and I saw him jump. He said "fucking.....[mumble]," and reached into my mouth with a pliers to pull out a thin, inchlong piece of metal. I think he was embarrassed, but I thought it was pretty funny. Did I mention he looks a bit like Alex Trebek?
I couldn't help but think - while all this was happening - about how my tooth is so tiny, but when it's being worked on to this extent, it feels like it's at least an inch in diameter, they do so much detail work on it.
The best part about this root canal? Vicodin, baby! I got ten pills, and I'mma save what I don't use for pre-menstrual syndrome cramps. Boo yah!
So there's that,
Laura
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