toothaches

    As some of you (and by "some" I mean the two people who actually read this with any regularity) might remember, I mentioned previously that I'd been to the dentist and was having some discomfort after my visit.  I kind of hoped it would go away, but by the beginning of this week, I sort of abandoned that hope.  I can't chew even the softest foods on the right side of my mouth without wanting to punch something or screaming obscenities, and  I realized that I probably needed to let my dentist know what was going on so that he could fix it.  I ended up in "dental triage" on Wednesday morning,  which is the Air Force's fancy way of saying "Hey, what's that? something is wrong with your teeth? Well, come on in and we'll let you talk to a dentist who isn't your regular dentist, and who has no idea what was just done in your mouth, and they will just do a quick assessment and then schedule you an appointment for 2 weeks from now to actually FIX the problem....OH? what did you say? you're in PAIN? okay....take some ibuprofen, cause that's ALL we can recommend to you on an "official" basis! Have a good one!"

    So I'm sitting in the waiting room, and this guy who probably put himself through college by modeling  suits for Ralph Lauren comes out and calls my name (he called me "Mrs. English, which I still find weird, and I realize that I should respond to that by saying "oh, PLEASE call me Charlee," but I'm always too frazzled from being called "Mrs. English" to even say anything).  I look at him for a second, and at first I assumed that he must be an assistant (not because he was good looking, but because he looked incredibly young). After I followed him into the exam room (which was a short walk, but seemed like it took forever because he didn't really laugh at any of my jokes) and climbed into the chair, I noticed that his name tag did, in fact, state that he was a dentist, and the fact that he was ridiculously good looking not only made me self conscious (my appointment was at 7 a.m., so even though I'd jumped in the shower and cleaned myself up a bit before going, I fully intended on going straight back to bed once I got home so I was literally in pajamas with my hair on top of my head in the most obscene pony tail ever, and I had no makeup on at all), but also made me want to go all stereotypical on him and ask to see his dentistry degree because, ya know, nobody THAT good looking could be smart enough to be a dentist.....

    Anyway, he did a bunch of tests to see if there were issues with my new filling, took some x-rays (which all looked pretty normal), and then did some tests to check my pain level.  Apparently pain and cold share a nerve (I'm sure there's a more medically correct way to say that, but I'm too lazy to care), so there was a bit of tapping on my teeth (which was unpleasant), but then he did the cold test...basically, they put a q-tip that's been sprayed with canned air that makes it like, 50 degrees below zero (okay, I don't know exactly how many degrees below zero, because when he was telling me what the exact temperature was, I was busy curling my hands into the tightest fists EVER, and wishing for death), and he presses it against your tooth to check for sensitivity/pain.  This is when Dr. Model Guy almost got a close-fisted, high-five to his very handsome face.  I was told to "raise your hand when the pain starts and don't put it down until it stops" but I kept having to drop my hand in order to grip the arm rests on the chair so that I didn't start instinctively start slapping at him like a crazy person.  It was, by far, one of the most unpleasant things I've ever experienced, and I seriously shudder every time I see a cotton tipped applicator now.  Anyway, I have to assume that my reaction to the cold test means bad news, so I'm preparing for the worst. On top of that, the pain when chewing has gotten worse (I don't know WHY I insist on continuing to try to chew on my right side...I guess I'm hoping it will magically go away).  I have an appointment to see Dr. Model Guy in 2 weeks (my regular dentist will be out of the country, so obviously will be unable to do it, and there aren't any available appointments before then) to redo the filling (the one that was JUST redone), and if that doesn't help the situation, I supposed I'll be getting a friggin' root canal. OH JOY.

   I will say this about the dentists on base:  aside from all being ridiculously good looking (seriously. they are ALL very attractive. They used to have a Tyra Banks look alike.), they are all incredibly nice, and are all as helpful as they can be (the scheduling issue isn't their fault) - I've always been really scared of dentists, but they all seem really good at making you feel at ease, and that means a lot to someone like me who is terrified of the dentist, especially when you consider that once this fiasco is over, I will have been to the dentist 7 times in the last 3.5 months. YIKES.


SIDE NOTE:  I guess that mother nature heard/read my bitching, because the last couple of days have been pretty freaking cold.  I'm a fan of cold weather (you just can't beat winter clothes, in my opinion), but I'm used to it gradually going from warm to cold (and what I mean by that, is that I'm used to experience a season we refer to back home as "fall"), rather than it being scorching hot one day, and then bonafide tight/sweater/fuzzy hat weather the next.  I don't know if this is the "norm" here since when I arrived last year, they were already well into winter. Whatever...at least it's not miserably hot anymore....mittens and hat weather, here we come! woo!