Oh the pain!

MY TOOTH HURTS



I went to the dentist today, however. The last time I went to the dentist, I was unmarried, childless. I wore a black leather motorcycle jacket and I worked in the mall. There was a Bush in the White house but not this Bush. (Wow, pre-Clinton? Whatever was life like back then?) I was thin, and I had red hair. I like my hair better now, but that’s neither here nor there in relation to my oral health (heheheh–I did come up with a connection, however it was indelicate and personal). So it has been like 14 years or so since I went to the dentist. Neveryoumind why I haven’t been back in the years between. I just got my nose out of joint and didn’t have the guts or the money to argue with any more snotty dentists about pain relief choices during surgery. I’ll leave it at that.

So the Dentist was nice. He was the epitome of mild-mannered. Well, maybe not the epitome, but close. Reminded me a lot of the OBGYN that delivered my first child. He, too, muttered softly to himself, thinking aloud. He, too, seemed chatty, but only when he broached subjects of his own choosing at random. Today this Dentist brought up the fact that John Ritter, Robert Palmer, and Barry White all died roughly the same time last year. I had forgotten about Robert Palmer. He brought it up as if it were idle conversation that would lead naturally into other subjects of equal import. No. It was simply the next thought in his head. He was writing in my chart and he simply stated, “It’s strange listening to him and he’s dead.” (the radio playing a Robert Palmer song I wouldn’t have recognised). There aren’t many people in the world who would say things like that. Should I be grateful? He mentioned the other 2 dead celebs and the hygenist and he exchanged quips about people dying in their fifties. He also mentioned, “The Bible says a man should live three score and ten years.” I worry about that more than anything else. That is the keystone in my possible distrust of my dentist. I worry about people to look to ancient scriptures for their projected longetivity. I worry about a lot of things in relation to said scriptures, but the people who can quote it in conversations that have little to do with the state of my soul on Earth or Beyond—-those are the worrisome ones.

I hope it doesn’t interfere with my dental care. (is there a verse about dental care?)

So I walked out with a referral to an oral surgeon and a prescription for Penicillin. And a little bible trivia added in for free.

The pain was horrendous last night. I haven’t ever had pain like that before. It was easily 7/10 on the pain scale, and I think it was an 8 or more judging by the fact that I could not really do anyting else but be in pain. Humor was lost, most needs were gone in the face of that pain. It was baaaad. Oh, and I’ve been through real live natural childbirth so I feel like I can identify pain if need be. Just to qualify myself, there. So I was grateful and relieved that I already had the appointment.

But the other source of pain was that I have read 13 of 15 available LKH books. I remembered with delight today that Nightseer is still available. I read Narcissuss in Chains last week and am awaiting my own copy of Cerulean Sins. I finished Seduced by Moonlight, too.

So there is a drastic void in my literary life right now. Oh, yes, I could fill it. My life partner repeatedly chides me about not having read the Lord of the Rings. I finally spelled it out for him, much to my own dismay and shame: “there’s no sex in Lord of the Rings.” There. I admit it. I am a slave to my base desires.

Okay, okay– I have admitted that fact many times, repeatedly in fact. No Biggie. But to say it out loud. To admit that I would love a lot of literature if only therein lay some romance, some tickle of my mental fancy. But oh, no. I like cheap and sleazy. To be sure, the two are not mutally exclusive! I prefer easy reading of a sort, but I will take smut with weight if necessary.

I can also point out to him that he ought to be ashamed because he has never read The Secret Garden, but I’m saving that witty little comeback.

Today I am reading Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris. I am having trouble with reading books set in the vernacular of the people around me who sound the least brilliant, but I will stick it out and see if I like it. I’m sorry, but Sookie Stackhouse is hard to swallow after 10 Anita Blake books (check out the parody). Anita would hate Sookie. But, that is entirely too much thinking about what imaginary people would think about each other. I really don’t have time for that. Just trying to get my supernatural love fix on.

Okay, so I went to look for a link to go with my book reference and found out that Charlaine Harris and I have the same birthday. We are exactly a certain number of years apart. How nice.

The good news about my weekend is that in order to help cheer my partner, whose boss is in the local ICU after an overdose, I forced hsi hand and sent him to the library to pick up the source of all that is good and right in the world, Guilty Pleasures, the first Anita book. He’s trying hard not to ruffle my feathers, but I know he doesn’t share my passion. But my man loves me, and if he can become a fan of 90210 and Dawson’s Creek through that love…..then anything is possible.

(Addendum: In return, my partner has introduced me to the passions of NASCAR racing, Rollerskating, and Bluegrass, so we’re even)

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~ by merialiss on July 26, 2004.

2 Responses to “Oh the pain!”

  1. Oh my lord! I am so sorry for your dental pain. You poor poor thing!!

    I have also tried getting through Lord of the Rings and seem to just get sucked up into any other book I pick up. Right now it is Shock by Robin Cook. I love all of the techinal talk.

    Speaking of surgical procedures, my new pup was spayed yesterday. The down side of this is she is now back to square one with potty training since the surgery has made her incontinet. My husband has become quite intimate with our steam cleaner.

    Speaking of my husband and wierd obsessions, he is the only man I know to get aroused watching Hillary Clinton speak at the DNC. He is giggling while trying to put a move on me, and I am shrieking, “Go watch your girlfriend on TV and paw her!”, (but laughing at the same time). This is why I love my husband. He knows he is one of possibly two men on this planet who thinks she would be a great president, and could care less of what anyone else thinks, even me.

  2. Oh, and I have to say I love your husband more each day.

    Did that rhyme?

    My partner was a little put-off by the fact that I felt compelled to spoon with him, sidling my hips up to his, while we watched Bill Clinton speak at the DNC. I tried to explain that I was cold….

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