I’m wearing braces on my teeth at age 38, because I’m a frickin’ masochist. Come on, baby, make it hurt so good.
It just occurred to me that the orthodontist neglected to tell me the safe word. There’s got to be a safe word! How’s he gonna know when I really want him to stop?
Since he’s a professional, it’s likely that the safe words run along the lines of, “My check was no good, compadre.” (IMPORTANT: Always call people “compadre” when you are explaining to them that your check was cold. This practice befuddles them and can somewhat effectively detract their attention from your lack of funds, drawing it instead to your lack of social skills.) Unfortunately, I paid in advance with a credit card. I’m officially screwed with no end in sight.
Even as I type this, my mouth is filled with blood-soaked gauze. Don’t be jealous – I can probably get you hooked up. See, my orthodontist knows a guy who’ll take care of all your blood-soaked gauze needs. You supply the blood, he supplies the gauze. Sweet deal, eh?…Yeah, well, he made it sound good at the time.
He did give me a prescription for hydrocodone. I have the bottle right here in front of me. So close and yet so far. It might as well be in Bermuda; I’m not supposed to take it on an empty stomach. And, let me see, what’s the last thing in the world I want to do right now? Can you guess? Did you guess eating? Bingo! I feel like sleeping, I vaguely feel like throwing up. But eating? Not so much.
I had two, count ’em, two teeth removed. It was fairly painless, really. The man knew what he was doing and yanked them right on out. Only the waiting was painful.
They put me in a small green room decorated with a lonely painting and left me facing it while the local anesthesia they injected me with took hold.
Naturally, my heart started beating rapidly as it always does in these situations.
I decided I would try to calm my nerves by using my imagination. THIS NEVER WORKS, and this particular instance is the perfect example of why THIS NEVER WORKS:
The racing horses were painted in watercolors and were facing forward so that they appeared to be running at you or wisely attempting to run out of the painting. There were some splotchy looking clouds in the background and some brush strokes off to the sides to indicate an audience watching the race.
I tried to visualize that the horses were running toward a large open field of green, dotted here and there with the occasional lily. Wide open spaces where horses can frolic in safety on the soft grass. Relaxing. Ah, yes… BUT NOOOOOOO! Watch out horsies! There’s a tray with scalpels and shit on it right there, and you’re heading right for it! Can’t you see it? Well, I sure as hell can! Slow down, you stupid horses!!!!
OH THE HUMANITY! Horses are getting impaled and legs chopped off right and left. Jesus! Is there no end in sight?
“Oh, hello again, doctor…”
PS – Question. What’s more fun than getting dental floss stuck in your braces? Answer. Getting BLOODY GAUZE stuck to your braces. YUM.
OMG! You poor thing… All four of my kids had to have braces and although I never did, I truly suffered right along with them. Dare I say…applesauce? Hang in there. I’m sure it was for a good cause (beauty? tmj? health?)… {{hugs}}
Oh, yeah. I did braces when I was a kid for four years. I’m a masochist, too. I miss the rubber bands, the headgear, and the embarrassment. Oh, and the bloody gauze.
~awe!!! i know how you feel…braces are a good thing if you’re in need of dropping a few lbs w/out trying to though….i wish i could have them back to help me do just that!…lol
~as far as food goes…try mashed potatoes…lots of soup…and what sue said, applesauce :oD
I can’t speak of the dentists yet – still too painful – but trust me when I tell you that I empithize with all the bloody gauze in my soul.
I cannot, however, seem to spell empathize without looking it up twice.
Having had braces for nearly eight years, several teeth extracted and two mouth surgeries, AND having to get a wisdom tooth yanked on June 8, I understand and sympathise.
Wow, you’re like tom cruise! Are you also acting all crazy and dating beards and jumping up on talk show couches?
Are you okay? We’ve not heard from you for awhile since you gave us this (gory) news… Please say you’re fine…!
Poor you. Poor, poor you. It only hurts for, well, a couple of years. Poor you.