I am insane. Did you know? Oh really? I wish one of you would have told me so I could have warned my husband.
Yesterday I left work early for the first of several dentist appointments in the next few months. I don’t think I told you guys this (partially out of forgetfulness, partially out of shame, partially out of wanting to block it out), but when i went for my first cleaning in several years six weeks ago, they basically told me my teeth were shot.I have very crowded teeth. I cannot skip cleanings. I have been a bad girl.
By shot, I need a bunch of fillings. I don’t even know the total number, but I need them on all sides and levels of my mouth, so I have to do them in four different appointments. It’s just FABULOUS. I’m really making the most of my dental insurance this year, lemme tell you.
But in the grand scheme of things, yesterday wasn’t awful. My cleaning six weeks ago ended up being a debridement (deep cleaning) so I had a quick check up with the hygenist for a regular cleaning. It was done in ten minutes because I have been DILIGENT in the last two months about not missing one single flossing and brushing extra long. I’ve had the fear of toothlessness put into me. She was pleased with how good my teeth and gums looked.
Then I scooted on over to see the dentist and he said “Are you okay with doing three fillings today?” And I said “You could do them all today if I could handle having my mouth open that long.”
So we did three. And he’s a wonderful dentist, really. I have crazy dental phobias (hence the skipped visits) but he and his staff really put you at ease. He did all the drilling first so that awful part was out of the way. He made sure I was super numb so I didn’t feel one darn thing, which is great. Then they did the fillings. Two of them were between teeth (like I said, crowded, crowded teeth) and that requires these weird contraptions that attach to my teeth and gums for a few minutes. When it was done he said that I was one of the most patient patients he’d ever had. I was sort of bewildered. I mean, I’ve done this to myself-what right do I have to sit in his chair and complain?
But the truth of the matter is, once it was over I did not feel good. I had a massive, massive headache, probably from being in a position of feet above head for two hours, not to mention drilling, and funny dental contraptions, and needles in my gums. I checked out and set up my next appointment (May 28th, if you’re wondering) and went home with every intention of getting a nap.
But I couldn’t sleep, because my head hurt so much. Tylenol just wouldn’t kick it. And the cats are still working on their pecking order, so anytime they’re in the same room I feel like I need to watch them, even though there have been NO actual fights since Dora came out into our world. I’m just paranoid.
So I just waited for Chief to come home from class, which wasn’t until 8:00. When he texted he was on his way I jumped up and started making dinner (tortellini). This semester has just sucked, and I’ve missed him so much. I’m so excited when he gets out of class early. He got home right as I was draining the pasta into the sink and….
The colander tipped over and half the tortellini fell down the drain. The handles of the pot had been really hot and I had dumped the tortellini in too fast.
And that’s when I really perfected the art of the hormonal rage quit.
And maybe rage isn’t really the right word, because basically I just started sobbing because I felt like such an idiot. He just held me and was saying “It’s alright, we have other pasta in the cabinet I can make for myself. It’s fine, don’t worry about it” and I wouldn’t let him because I did NOT want to eat the tortellini when he couldn’t have any because I’m an idiot. He kept trying to get me to eat it, but by that point I had worked myself up so much I wasn’t even hungry so I made him eat it. Then finally at 10:00 I agreed to eat food and he made me a grilled cheese sandwich. Which was perfect actually. Chief makes a good grilled cheese.
I cried so much over the damn pasta that I didn’t have any tears left when we watched Grey’s last night. Probably a good thing.
So, just so you know, the title of most out of control pregnant drama queen goes to me. God help my poor, poor husband.