Thursday, February 24, 2011

Just Say No To Marshmallow Hearts

It all started a couple weeks ago at the Hallmark Store. Driven by my chronic need for a "little something sweet", I impulse bought an overpriced chocolate marshmallow heart. ($4 for a little piece of candy! Really, Hallmark? Has the card biz gotten that bad?) Anyway, I sat down with a good book to read while eating it.

Three bites in and there's a noise in my mouth, followed by the feeling I just bit into tin foil. What the hell? It's a marshmallow. There's no sediment in marshmallow. I immediately know something's wrong as both the upper and lower tooth are screaming at me to quit chewing.

Damn. Damn, damn, damn. This cannot be good. The lower tooth is actually a crown and the upper has a filling. (Yes, I do brush my teeth regularly.) If either or both are cracked this is gonna be bad.

So I do what any normal person would do and ignore it. Maybe it will go away on it's own, I hope. If I don't acknowledge it, maybe nothing's really wrong. Except I can't chew on the left side of my mouth. For three weeks. Something's definitely wrong. I begrudgingly make an appointment with my dentist.

Yesterday, the receptionist calls to ask if I want to come in early. I can't. I have a meeting and can't get there until 11:30a.m., my scheduled time. I'm answering emails while talking to her, a rude habit. She's saying something about maybe I'll need a follow-up, blah, blah, blah...see an oral surgeon.

What!?!? Back the truck up. Oral surgeon? Dr. Miller hasn't even looked at my teeth yet and you're throwing oral surgeon around? This is much worse than I thought. I ask if she can get me in immediately, which she accommodates.

I'm sitting in the chair, imagining the worst when the hygienist comes in to take x-rays, which they immediately show on the light board. (So cool, all the modern, medical technology.) I'm trying to discern any cracks or other reasons for alarm, just in care Dr. Miller looks to me for confirmation. Ha.

The good news is, I only messed up the upper tooth, the bottom crown is fine. The bad news is, the bottom crown will soon have a new crown friend to hang out with.

Being the no-nonsense dentist she is, Dr. Miller says, you're already in the chair, so let's go ahead and do it today. Awesome. No time to prepare for the drilling. No Ipod to drown out the horrible drill sound. Fine. May as well get started. Except for the fact the anesthetic isn't really working.

One round of shots and she starts drilling. My hand flies up, which is the code for stop. Hmmm. Maybe I need more. Second shot. Drill. Hand up. Crap. Third and final shot and then we're good. Drill away. At one point, she breaks out the jackhammer drill (my term, not hers) which makes my brain feel like it's hitting my skull.

Impression made. Temporary crown on. Finally. Except now the massive amount of anesthetic makes me appear to have Bell's Palsy and I sound like a drunk. The left corner of my mouth is sliding toward my chin and I've developed a drool. So instead of heading back to work, I decide to work from home the rest of the day.

If you're wondering whether it's possible to update spreadsheets and watch Oprah at the same time, it is.

Sunday, February 6, 2011

Double Funk

I'm sitting in my living room chair under a blanket, half surfing the web and half watching mindless television. .001 percent of me is debating some sort of workout. But then I would have to actually get up and move.

February should be renamed Funkuary. The cold, the ridiculous amount of snow and lack of sunlight make getting to the gym at 5:30 a.m. difficult. If I do drag myself out of the warm covers, it seems to be later and later. Friday I didn't finish my workout until 8 a.m., putting me at work by 8:45. Good thing they don't give out tardy passes.

The double funk comes from an entire month off of swimming and yoga. A whole month. That's seven months in Jen-years. The funk was spiraling out of control. I had to do something. I needed a new mindset, damn it.

So I decided to do what I should have done long ago and work on my weaknesses. The last two weeks have included lots of trainer and treadmill time. My legs are sore. I'm groaning a bit upon standing. But I'm hoping this may be a blessing in disguise.

Now I must go make some sort of dessert for a Superbowl party, which is also good motivation to get out of my chair. Some sort of cracker candy with butter, sugar and chocolate. Something that I refer to as fat on fat. Just call me Paula Dean.