Tag Archives: teeth

Deep Subjects

Wishing well at the castle of Zumelle, Belluno...
Wishing well at the castle of Zumelle, Belluno, Veneto, Italy. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Well……

It appears I’ve taken an unplanned, unannounced and ridiculously long break.  Long for me, anyway, because of this blog-a-day thing with which I like to torture myself.

I have many teeth stories that even I’m sick of hearing, so I’ll just say I now have a mouthful of them thanks to a small permanent bridge filling up a space that’s been empty for years.  Yay for one less empty space in my head.  And only one more trip to the dentist, and then he can go off on an extended vacation once my bill is paid.

Yesterday was seniors day at Shoppers Drug Mart and the cashier didn’t even ask me for ID to prove I’m over 55.  Seriously.  Even though I’m well over that and have an honest face, she still could have made my day by doubting me.  Whatever, the discount was nice.  Getting to be ancient has it’s perks.

Not so perky is the hearing loss where I misunderstand people who mumble in a quiet and irritating manner, saying things like “seduced LSD is a sin” when they actually mean “reduced elasticity in the skin”.  Come on people, either speak up or I’ll have to go see an audiologist.

And speaking of ‘seeing’, yesterday I misread the question “What makes a great teacher?” as “What makes a goat tender?”  That was on my phone where the printing is small.  Could have happened to anyone, right? And means practically the same thing.  My life has become infinitesimally more interesting lately.  No wonder old people wander around looking dazed and confused.

At work I continue to be a geezer magnet.  Eighty year old men love me.  A ten minute glasses dispensing job turns into a half hour gab session as they tell me their life stories.  A delightful man told me all about his triple bypass surgery, and how he had to stay in the hospital an extra three days due to constipation.

Another explained how doctors removed four litres of fluid from his asbestos inflamed lungs, and now his feet swell up all the time.  I did not ask how those two facts are related.

Did you know that a box of ammunition for a 22 rifle used to cost twenty five cents, and that an 11 year old way back in the day picking off gophers could become a sharp shooter really fast? Neither did I.

Canada is the absolute best place in the world to live and in Texas you can shoot an intruder and then just call somebody to come pick up the body.  I could think of no reply to that double barrelled  bit of information, but I think perhaps one or both of those statements may not be entirely true.

Well, who knows.  Maybe I didn’t hear him right.   Because, you know, think about the winters here.

It’s been another beautiful fall day.  I went for a hair cut and didn’t cry.  W brought home Chinese take out.  I was able to chew stuff.

Life is good.

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Dental Mental Health

teeth
I have been neglecting the blog world more than usual lately, and the reason is because I have had some appointments with the dentist.  Is that a good enough excuse?  Because it’s really all I’ve got.

Tomorrow, at the ungodly hour of seven-thirty I make my third and final trip to Smiles Dental House of Horrors (not its real name) to get two chipped teeth repaired (not caused by chewing on branches or twigs) and then I have to suffer through the obligatory cleaning where the pissed off dental hygienist  tries to scrape off every speck of enamel I have left while muttering about my gums bleeding on her instruments.  All hygienists are pissed off, it’s in their job description.  Plaque makes them downright belligerent.  They really should try to be thankful for it, because – come on – without it, they would be unemployed.

All my life I’ve been a dentist avoider.  I prefer to wait until the situation gets serious before wasting their time on something as boring as mere maintenance.  I went for two days once with a toothache because I was afraid of the pain the dentist might cause with his drills. So I guess you would call that suffering pain to avoid suffering pain.   Not the proudest or brightest page in my life story.

My dental phobia is a lot milder than it used to be, thanks to a great dentist who has a lot of patience with wimps.  All it takes is a couple of traumatic experiences as a child to instill a lifelong fear – and then a hundred million non traumatic visits to get over it.  I just have to keep telling myself that it’s an hour or two – that’s all – and then it’s over.  And I can come home and play candy crush for the rest of the day.  There’s still that little kid in me who likes to be rewarded for being brave.