If you have read my blog, you might already know how I feel about the dentist. If not, catch up a little bit here.
You see, there's always some kind of shady shit going down at the dentist office. Most likely involving pain, your teeth, which include the tiny little nerves in your mouth and, THEN, that special someone who enjoys inflicting said pain.
See what I mean?
Let's move forward to the current state affairs in my life:
Nope, that is not the arc reactor in Ironman's chest.
That would be awesome because that would make me an Avenger and I would be all:
Nope, that picture above is a picture of my tooth. My toothache began somewhere around January 25, and has continued on getting worse. However, my husband and I are in the process of moving our lives around for our big move and I have not really had time to make a dental appointment.
And, you know, any other excuse you would enjoy to hear on why I did not go sooner.
Actually, the dentist I chose was really nice. He was compassionate and understood my fears; and if you lived in my area, I would highly recommend him. However, I let the problem go too long and he had to refer me to a specialist.
The specialist does only the really fun stuff like root canals, tooth extractions and breaking open your jaw like the reverse beartrap finished off Jill Tuck in the Saw Franchise.
My husband made the appointment. He told me the conversation with the appointment taker/receptionist/right hand to Satan went like so:
Husband: Hi, my wife got a referral from Dr. _____ and she needs to make an appointment to see about getting her tooth pain fixed.
Satan's Helper: Huh? What? Dr. ____? Oh (in a nasty voice). You need to hold.
Husband: *getting pissy
AND...she's back from the depths of hell.
Satan's Helper: DO YOU EVEN HAVE INSURANCE?
Husband: Yes, I'm in the military. I have lots of fuc*ing insurance. (editor's note: not sure if my husband said fuc*ing" but he was pissed and he said the lady was hella rude....and my husbands from Jersey...so yeah, it's a possibility.)
Satan's Helper: She needs to make a consultation and you pay us $80. And your insurance refunds you some of that. And after the consultation we make another appointment.
Husband: Why does she need a consultation? She has the x-rays and she needs to have something done. She's in pain.
Satan's Helper: SHE JUST DOES!!
If you want to know how excited I am about this trip to see the specialist, here is what I wrote on the forms I have to fill out when asked:
"Is There Anything Else Special We Should Know About You?"
Terrified is putting it mildly.
Until next time. Hopefully..