(Originally posted on my old blog "The Domestication of a Punk Rock Foodie" on March 18, 2010.)
There is a reason why there has not been a food blog in over two weeks. All I can eat is applesauce, won ton soup, and jello. Here's why.
I want a do-over. This all started with a toothache. Then it became a toothache in a tooth that developed a hole. And pain. Like my tooth was in labour or something.
Looking back, I should have gone with the extraction and spacer option. But nooooo... I let Dr. Frank, super dentist of the Northside, talked me into saving what is now, officially, the most valuable tooth in history. Way back in the day, Frank had to re-build the front part of this tooth because it randomly snapped off. Back then, I had to promise to name my first born Francis and sell an ovary to cover the bill. Apparently Mrs. Dr. Frank likes pretty things and likes going to fancy places and Big Frank has to find a way to pay for it all. This time around, Mrs. Dr. Frank will have to accept my uterus as payment. Feel free to make a lampshade crazy lady.
Personally, I think Frank set me up years ago when this whole tooth falling apart fiasco began. His assistant had a look around in my mouth and when he entered the room, he was pulling a cart that had "ROOT CANAL" written on it. Ya, I'm thinking Frank had a plan. Others tell me he has a very observant assistant who should actually be a dentist because she's so good at what she does but I live in my head, not theirs, and I think Frank has been biding his time, figuring out how much money he owes on the golf condo and now its my turn to make the next mortgage payment.
Speaking of money, in two visits Big Frank has maxed out the yearly allowance on my new dental insurance plan, which, by the way only started on March 01.
Of this year.
What started out as a root canal on a molar turned into three root canals on one molar and a cracked lingual something or other. I'm sure when Frank stepped out of the room, it was to call his banker to tell him he's got the balance of the outstanding mortgage on his condo in Phoenix sitting in his chair.
At the one hour mark, Big Frank was kind enough to give me a bit of a break. I was a hawt mess. By this time he had given me four huge horse needles full of freezing, my right eye and ear were frozen, I was sweating like a pig being prepared for a luau, and I had to pee. Badly. I think he sensed it. Maybe that saying about back teeth floating is true. Or maybe it was because I started waving my hands about and pointing *down there*. I’m not proud of that but what the hell else was I going to do? I could not talk, I had drills and other dental apparati (it’s a new word, learn it, use it, never abuse it) hanging out of my mouth. Pissing myself in public while completely sober and having dental work done is not an option for me. Sometimes we have to choke on our princess pride and point at our lady bits to get what we want.
I was enjoying the break from rubber dam induced lock jaw until I looked in the mirror over the sink while doing the obligatory post pee hand wash. At first I thought I looked like a stroke victim. Then I looked inside my mouth. I almost passed out. I would tell you why but it is too icky for even me to repeat. Google a root canal video, you’ll see.
It wasn’t all diabolically shitty. The good news is, I found out that there is a part of me that is genuinely skinny. Yeaaaah!!!! *Jumpy claps* Bad news is it’s the roots on this pain in my everywhere molar.
I have been patched and temporarily filled. Again. On March 29th there’s gonna be a rumble in the jungle ya’ll and my crack is gonna get drilled and filled. Again. It will be part three of this nightmare. Rumor has it there is a crown in my future too. And not the diamond studded type a princess wears on her head.
I think Frank wants to bank rupt me.
Oh, did I happen to mention Francis just got back from the jungles of Peru? Uh huh. I rather suspect that the Visa I will be using to pay for my next visit to Frank’s Root Canal and Weight Loss Clinic (his name for it, not mine) will be paying for the bills he racked up while away. This is why I don’t feel bad that he got bit on the ass by a bed full of Peruvian ants. I know it makes me a bad Buddhist to derive a large amount of sick pleasure from his suffering, but hey, Karma is a bitch and sometimes I am too.
PS: Darling Frank, bringer of pain and misery, in answer to your question, it is me who is taking all the free mini lip balms. After coming to see you for almost 22 years and promising to come back after this fiasco, it is the least you can do for me and my hole and crack. Charlotte, your office goddess, said I need it. And we both know she's the really the one running the show.
At least she doesn't charge me when she's lubing up my lips and sending me on my way. Oh yes, she’s hot like that.
