Tooth Fairy

It is with a heavy heart that I begin this little story…

                A few weeks ago I had some upgrades started on my face. Nothing major, just some metal drilled into my face, in what would certainly be months of waiting for the final product: a shiny tooth. Today, I watched the dentist pull the metal from face – 3k worth of what is essentially a steroid enhanced staple.

                Last night I’m sitting on my couch watch GOT (yeah, so what – say something. You watch this shit too, don’t even play like ya’ll don’t) after a nice meal and I’m macking on my Quaker Carmel Cakes when I notice that something feels very, very wrong. 1) Quaker Carmel Cakes are fucking delicious, try them. 2) They are fucking delicious, try them. 3) Don’t get between me and these things, I have hurt people for less. 4) I’ve given up booze and drugs, afford me a few liberties; shitty television, swearing and crap food aren’t going anywhere – adjust or be gone. Anyhow…I’m inhaling these little morsels of heaven and I stop mid bite and realize that all hell is breaking loose in my mouth. Legitimately. All hell. Breaking loose. Right now. This fantabulous piece of metal do-hickey costing 3k is just about to fall out in my mouth. I am going to swallow this bitch in my sleep if I’m not careful and I am NOT about to start rooting through my own feces to find it should that take place. “Here Doc, I swallowed it but don’t trip - I found it in my turd, it’s all good” as I drop a dirty Ziploc on the counter. Um hell no! About a zillion different scenarios play out in my head. In one, I choke on it and die leaving my son motherless; what will be engraved on my headstone? “She finally bit off more than she could chew?” Then there’s the storyline where I don’t actually swallow it, but it gets lodged in my brain and I end up a vegetable for life. No more bothering with questions like “flats or heels, dress or jeans?” Takes the guess work out of “what’s for dinner?” I can be practical.

                So I took my practical self to the dentist first thing in the morning. I sat in the chair while he and his assistant poked and prodded around in my mouth. She’s looking at me while she’s snapping her hands into her gloves and asks “no allergies to latex, right?” I am choking back the urge to say some off-color joke. I refrain from saying anything in my typical wheelhouse and manage to simply cough out “no” and they proceed. You know shit is all wrong by the looks on their faces. This isn't even my doctor. My doctor is apparently off playing golf somewhere or tagging a nurse in a broom closet. I don’t know that, but I hope he is; maybe then he’d stop wearing those ridiculous socks. So this doctor is all kinds of worried; I can see it. I look him square in the face and tell him “If you tell me that shit is molly bolted in there and I’m trippin, I will get up out of this chair and leave, and it will be good” to which he replies “Well, I never want to take out another doctors’ implant.”  Here we go…

                He reaches his latexed paw into my mouth and barely touching the metal shaft, pulls it out slowly. That sounded oddly more erotic than I had intended. I feel slightly ill. Yep, he pulls out my little implant and lays it on a piece of gauze and offers to hand it to me. Are you fucking kidding me? I don’t want to see that shit. That was my hopes and dreams. You want to hand me my hopes and dreams on a bloody little pillow? What kind of sick bastard are you?? This is where it gets kind of touchy. If you have feelings – stop reading. Either from first-hand personal knowledge or readings that I have posted, you may be aware of the fact that I lack tact and etiquette. Social graces? Zero. Zilch. Nada. So it goes that without saying that what transpired next was classic “Tina.” The words that came out of my mouth were: “I feel like I just miscarried.” I followed that up with “I am not paying for this all over again!” Now before everyone starts sending hate mail and death threats and flaming dog shit; I am not at all trying to minimize what expectant mothers who face this tragedy go through. NOT AT ALL. My heart goes out to each and every one of you, this is just what fell out of my mouth in that dentist’s office. To be clear, also, there was a certain amount build up around the whole event and then it all fell apart in my lap – or his hand as the case were. In hindsight, the simile was not very considerate, compassionate or appropriate. I laughed though. I’m going straight to hell, but I laughed.

                I have spent the rest of the afternoon licking my wounds, playing with the hole in my face where the expensive piece of bling should be, listening to music and being downright ornery with my co-workers. Oh, and I washed my car yesterday and today it rained. Anything else you want to throw at me?? I have an empty space in my face where I can catch it.


Below is a reference: That big mama-jamma is what they pulled outta my face hole; the one labeled "implant." I get to have that drilled back into my cranium in three months. Yay!