THRILL OF THE DRILL

So after my last busted and rotting tooth episode, husband felt like he was missing out on all the fun. "Where's MY busted and rotting tooth? Huh? What about ME? You ALWAYS have busted and rotting teeth and I never, ever, EVER get to. No fair! Plus, YOU always get to have your teeth drilled down to the nub and root, and I NEVER do. Goll. Hmmphhh." Arms folded across chest, head down and mumbling, with tentacle eyebrows sprouting out and over his glasses (Not sure why I mentioned that, as it really has nothing to do with this particular story. I just wanted it to be part of your visual, forever and ever, because I get to revel in it every day, forever and ever. And it's really too beautiful not to share. Therefore, my gift to you. No, thank YOU for sharing it with me. Enjoy.) as he kicks a rock down the street.

He had no idea his life was about to change. That soon...very soon...he, too, would feel the thrill of the drill.

So a couple of weeks ago, he goes to the dentist after having some old fillings break out and LO AND BEHOLD, THE MAN DOTH HAVE BUSTED AND ROTTING TEETH! Enter not one, but TWO, TWO, TWO CROWNS AT ONCE! And for this story, we're totally glossing over the cost associated. Some things are just too painful to relive.

Anyway, he has a double header. And he does it WITHOUT PAIN KILLER!!! HOLY HELL, PEOPLE! I KNOW!!! Remember MAN-SICK? ME TOO!!! And you know what? I are not dumb...I are smart. And Something...SOMETHING is amiss here. But that's also another story. This story is about what happened later that night.

He's really weirded out by the fact that he's not allowed to chew on one side, because of the two temp crowns. He mentions it to me, oh, I'd say 436 times in about an hour. Which is just soooooo...endearing. It's hard to emphasize enough JUST how endearing it is. Anyway, we go out to dinner with a couple of friends and we're chatting in the car when we drop them off. He offers us gum and we continue chatting.

You know that dream (nightmare) where your teeth crumble and fall out of your mouth, into your hands? Well, just like a Disney fairytale, some dreams really DO come true.

Husband is suddenly silent. At least on the outside.

On the inside, it went something like this..."AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!! OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH OHMYGOSH MYTEETHJUSTCAMEOFF!!! MYCROWNS,MYCROWNS,MYTEMPORARYCROWNSJUSTPULLEDOFF! ICAN'TBELIEVEIFORGOTNOTTOCHEWGUMONTHATSIDE! AAAGGGHHH! WHATDOIDO? WHATDOIDO? WHATDOIDONOW?!! SCREAM,SCREAM,FREAKOUT,SCREAM!" Something kind of like that.

Which got me to thinking~what exactly is the expiration date for body parts? I mean, how long are these enamel covered bones in our mouth good for? And how about other bits and pieces? Like a good friend just had a hysterectomy and I'm thinking, "Heeeeyyyyy. Wait a minute here. Why is it that we were made with stuff that has to be surgically removed? Shouldn't there be some sort of "dissolve after use" put into play? You know, the way baby teeth roots just disintegrate before adult horse teeth grow in? Shouldn't our uterus be that proficient?

And yes, I myself am experiencing some "unfortunate" effects of a disintegrating human body and you'd be proud of the grace and dignity I display. "WHAT DO YOU MEAN ANOTHER FREAKIN' PERIOD?!! I THINK IT'S CONSIDERED AN EXPLANATION POINT WHEN IT'S TWICE IN ONE MONTH! WHO'S IN CHARGE HERE? AND WHAT'S THIS CRAP ABOUT PERIMENOPAUSAL? IS THAT EVEN A WORD?!" See? Grace, dignity, decorum. All synonyms for Lisa. Bless my elegant heart.

In conclusion, I'm angry. That's right, angry. That teeth rot out. That periods go rogue. That body's betray and can't be counted on for the long haul.

But hand me another fistful of cinnamon bears and a box of tampons and I'll handle it all with the grace and dignity you've become accustomed to witnessing in me.

%$#*@&*# perimenopause.