Ain't that about a...

It has seemed, my entire life, like nothing ever works quite normally for me. If there is something that typically takes three steps for most people to complete? Those are the things that for me will take four steps or possibly seven. If there is a fluke way of something out of the ordinary happening to influence a normal occurrence in a not-so-good way, the universe will find a way to deliver to me just that. See previous posts about requiring breech babies to be flipped and getting rear-ended TWICE within SEVEN DAYS.

Between the dates of those two rear ending accidents I had a dentist's appointment. I will pause here to tell you that I have crap teeth. You know those dreams you sometimes have where your teeth crumble and fall out? THAT SHIT HAS LITERALLY HAPPENED TO ME WHILE EATING SOFT SHELL TACOS. The front ones look nice, but those are really just like that four-year-old child who tilts her head and smiles sweetly in front of the teller at the bank when just five minutes earlier, back in the car she had an unholy melt-down and belted the baby across the face in a fit of preschool rage.

One of my lower rear molars is completely missing. It had to be pulled when I was 16 after not having had dental insurance for a number of years. Of the other three molars, one has had a root canal and a crown, another has a nice shiny new crown and the last one is the bastard in question, also a candidate for a beautiful white porcelain crown. Except...

Except first insurance denied my pre-approval claim saying that it was for a non-functioning tooth. (Wait...what?!?) The good doc resubmitted it and we waited a few more weeks for them to pre-approve the claim. (I know better than to have thousands of dollars of work done before knowing that its going to be covered. See above paragraph as to why.) So finally they approve the claim and I make my appointments. One for an hour to get fitted for the crown, then the second for a week after, during which they'll put it on.

My first appointment was scheduled over my lunch hour from work. I settled into the chair and the doc shot me up with Novocaine. I've been going to this (super awesome) dentist for more than 10 years, so he already knows that if normal people need one shot, I'll actually require two.

While he let the Novocaine do its thing, he and I and his lovely assistant had a chat about denterly things...the weather, movies, the election, what have you. After a few minutes he asked if I felt numb, and I did, so he proceeded.

Then, suddenly, while he was drilling away at my tooth...OH MY FARKLING FARKLE DEAR LORD. I could feel EVERYTHING.

The good doc apologized and keyed up more Novocaine. Two more shots. I sat there in the chair, enjoying the 70s soft rock on the oldies station, wondering where the members of Asia might be now. The doc left the room, leaving me to chat with his lovely assistant, who happens to be from somewhere in Eastern Europe. As she and I talked, I begin to notice something...odd...

The lower right side of my face was going completely numb.

I've had it happen before where I'd felt the numbness in my ear, which is really an odd feeling that you only notice if for some reason you stick your finger in your ear. But this? My ear was numb as was my cheek, all the way up to my lower eyelid.

So there I was, in the chair, talking to this nice lady, trying to be polite and make out what she's saying about her daughter through her accent. And I realized that because my lower eyelid was numb? When I would blink, my eye wasn't closing all the way. Which is really sort of a problem because I wear contact lenses, and if your eye doesn't close all the way when you blink? Your contacts will dry out.

So repeat that last bit. He starts to drill a second time, and lo and behold I could still feel him drilling. He gave me two more shots. I had, by this point, been given SIX shots of Novocaine. Again, while we wait for these last two to kick in, we sat and talked about the annoyance of robo-calls and movies that we wanted to see and books we have read, and my lip had begun to feel as thick as the Atlanta phone book. I was talking like Bill Cosby in that famous comedic bit. A few times during the conversation, I had to take that little paper bib and wipe drool from my lip. You know...drool I would never have noticed (because I couldn't feel it) but that the nice assistant pointed out to me.

At the same time, my lower eyelid was becoming even more numb than before, and my contact lens was so dry it felt like it was going to be expelled from my eye every time I tried to blink. Which, of course, I was doing constantly. Sometimes, while talking with my lips that felt 5" thick, I would just reach up and hold my eyelid down so as to help it out.

My eye began to water profusely to compensate for the dryness.

And then I realized...

While I sat there in that chair, talking about the latest Dan Brown book, I was hardly making ANY sense because I could no longer speak properly, I was drooling and holding my eyelid shut. And while I was simultaneously doing all of that, my right eye was watering so badly that it looked like I was crying. On just that one side.

Dentists should have cameras like they have at the top of roller coasters at Six Flags, because damn, I'm sure that was HOT.

In the end, even six shots of Novocaine wouldn't numb that stubborn tooth, and because he feared that might mean I have nerve damage, the good doc ended up only filling that tooth instead of prepping it for a crown. You know, after drilling where I could feel for what felt like 10 minutes straight.

Fast foward several weeks to last night, when I was flossing my teeth like a good little girl. Wouldn't you know it but that damn filling is loose...