Wednesday, April 29, 2009
If there were a hall of fame for dental patients, I'd be Babe Tooth. If archaeologists of the future unearth my mouth, they'll call me King Toothankhamun. The amount of damage I've done to my own dentifrice over the years qualifies me as John Wilkes Tooth. I'm the main course of a dentist's dinner: Teeth Wellington.
My teeth suck. They only suck half as much as they used to, though. That’s because I had half of them removed about 7 years ago. Tomorrow, I’m having most of the remaining ones removed.
Before you get too weepy about that, let me tell you that I’m not weepy at all. As a matter of fact, I’m looking forward to it. Not that I’m some sort of masochist who likes having teeth yanked out of his head, but I know what a marvelous job my dentists did on the uppers. I’m looking forward to just as marvelous an outcome for the lowers.
I’ve told stories about the types of procedures I’ll be undergoing. If you like grody tales, go HERE. That’s the beginning of a four-part opus concerning what I went through to have my uppers done. There are also a few stories included concerning why I had such rotten teeth to begin with. Condensed version? Bad genes combined with awesome neglect.
The first thing that happens, tomorrow, is the removal of most of the lowers. I’ll still have two remaining, those being used to hook a temporary denture onto. A few months later, when the gums have healed, I’ll have the more radical part of the procedure (more radical than removing half your teeth – isn’t that something?) which is slicing open the gums, drilling into the bone, placing implants, and having a permanent prosthetic dental device attached to the implants.
Really, I’m looking forward to it. Of course, rumor has it that Custer was looking forward to Little Big Horn.
So, this is the last entry here until next Monday. I’ll try to remember to get some before and after shots, although the difference probably won’t be as startling as these pre-and-post shots of the uppers.
If I had the extra cash, I'd get two temporary dentures made. One would be your standard-issue run-of-the-mill nice-looking set, and the other would be a set with great big gruesome fangs. I'd wear the fangs when I play softball, just to freak out the other team. Oh, well. You can't have everything.
Soon, with more better teeth.
Oh, Hell's Bells. My teeth have fucked me up one last time while they still had the chance.
I just got a call from the dentist's office. My appointment for tomorrow is canceled because the doctor has to attend a funeral. I'm being re-scheduled for a week from today, next Wednesday at 1pm. I made no contingency plans for this space, so I'm publishing what I wrote as is. Next Wednesday, read this again. And if any of you said prayers for me, and you mentioned a specific date in them, please give God an addendum. I'd hate for Him to look down at my dentist's office at 8am tomorrow, go "What the...? Where's Suldog? That bastard!" and then give me some sort of smoting.