Throw Her Over: Day 15

There is a White Russian in a bottle waiting for me at the end of this post.  Or maybe tomorrow.  It exists on this plane.  It’s only a matter of me moving to meet it.

One cat is tenderly, and then aggressively, grooming the other.   Warm and blocking me from stretching out.

A note that what follows is more specifically for me than perhaps other posts may be.   It is entirely a post written to describe my dentist visit. I feel the need to highlight this fact this now that I am aware that some people I “know” read this tiresome screed now and again.  Hard to explain how a post like today’s post truly benefits me but sometimes it’s just a matter of getting through this to get to the next good thing.

Some days you derive power from the weirdest places.  Today, I went to a new dentist and the act of doing so was so significant, I can hardly begin to say.  It made me brave to stay and work from home – it would have been ridiculous to drive forty minutes in for 2 hours and then back forty minutes for a forty-five minute appointment and then another hour and a half coming and going to return.  Now that the dentist is not more than two minutes from my house.

I told the hygienist and receptionist I was super nervous, anxious, but my symptoms were largely gone. I plainly expressed everything I was worried about without couching it at all in terms that might ameliorate this picture of a tragically fearful woman in front of her.  She narrowed her eyes for a moment in a way where you can’t quite tell if she was sympathetic or apathetic to your cause and then, after gagging away on the X-ray camera a few times, we both took a breath and I calmed down and was able to endure the apparatus and she took X-rays that actually looked like something.  As opposed to the blurry, best we could do X-rays at the old office.  She said in a very soothing voice that I had done great, that I was worried, but I did great.

Then the dentist came in and proceeded to be the dentist I’d always thought I’d ought to have.  I think I learned more in that 20 minutes of examination and cleaning than I had in four years of regular service at the fancy, high-tech joint.  And mostly what I’d learned was that the shit they’d been doing to my teeth was not, at this point, necessary.  That where I’d been desperate to get in having run long on a 3 month appointment schedule, he felt perfectly comfortable putting my next appointment out in July.  He didn’t see a ton of gum damage and felt that the grinding was the cause of my former discomfort. He explained about how it’s a natural method of the body to discharge stress and there are things we can do to adjust our habits so we don’t do it as much.  That the jaw was a joint, but we don’t treat pain in it like we do n our knees, for example. He didn’t charge me for 3 minutes of glancing at my teeth after an incompetent tech messed about with them.  And while he talked the whole time about things I was in no position to have a conversation about while he flossed my teeth, I actually learned about plaque development and how to floss and how often and all the things nobody ever bothered to tell me at the expensive office with the 900 signatures and the let’s spend 35 bucks to fluoride your mouth add-on charges I absolutely was sure I had to pay for.

I felt like he knew what he was doing.  I felt empowered to learn more.

I even went so far as to ask about the wisdom tooth extraction.  He was all nah, it’s not bothering you, and there’s only this bit of weirdness and yes, you need to pay attention because bacteria can get trapped there, but no…I don’t feel any rush to do that.  I was positively beaming at that point.  Then, they brushed me out of there with a huzzah, and here’s a toothbrush, and no, my dear, your insurance covers all of it.

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