There will be no Chubby Chick update this week. I skipped the weigh in and I have a VERY valid excuse. Yesterday, I started my HOLY FUCKING EXPENSIVE time at the dentist’s office. As a reminder, I broke two teeth in January and they were deemed “unsalvageable.” I decided to go with permanent implants and just work one step at a time over years, to maximize my dental insurance benefits.
The only thing that bothered me about this dentist is that he declined the medication that would put me out for the procedure. He promised I would be ‘very comfortable’ and gave me a prescription for Valium for the night before and some for the morning of the procedure. I can drink beer like a champ, but medications knock me on my ass. I agreed to his plan. Boo highly recommended this guy after all. And Boo is the straightest shooter I know.
I took my medication on Wednesday night and the second dose Thursday morning. EN drove my loaded ass to the office and we were told again that the procedure(s) would take 2 ½ hours, but they blocked out four in case they ran into problems.
If you’ve ever met me, you KNOW I’m the gal that will cause problems and the appointment lasted the full four hours. There was an issue with the extractions-they shattered and had to be pulled out piece by piece. I was there so long that a potty break was required, Novocain shots were refreshed and I was given an oral painkiller during the procedure. I am hazy on the rundown of all that went on, but I believe that I had two teeth extracted, posts drilled into my jaw for implants and maybe bone and skin grafts and a whole lot of stitches. I’ll clarify everything on Thursday when I go for follow up.
Through it all, I listened to the dentist banter with his assistant and put in my two cents whenever I could. EN said that he could hear me laughing from the waiting room. Who laughs at a time like this?
We were given a care package which included a bunch (five) of prescriptions that we were told to have filled right away. Since I was still feeling pretty grand, we stopped at the Rite Aid in our town. We dropped off the prescriptions and walked around the store for a while.
I should mention here that I’m pretty frugal and only buy what I need. I don’t browse much, so this unexpected time in a store threw me for a loop. I was tanked and decided to SHOP. Some of our purchases included a birthday card for Sugar that we thought was cute because it has a dog that looks like one of ours in it. Mind you, we’ll forget where we put the card as her birthday isn't for a month and a half. I also perused the wine section and selected a bottle, because with all the medication I was getting, I’d SURELY need a bottle of wine. And really, who doesn't buy wine at Rite Aid? Then I came across these bad boys in the Easter aisle:
Yes, that’s right… an elephant and a frog that make noises and POOP Easter eggs. Could anything be funnier under the influence than pooping frogs and elephants? Then I remembered the lady in the dental office suggested ice cream, so I was off to check out the variety of ice cream. Oh look, it’s buy one, get one free. It sure as hell better have been because that ice cream was $6.50 per gallon.
Halfway through the ringing of our ginormous purchase I decided I had enough and demanded the car keys. I stumbled out to the car and waited for EN who quietly loaded our $100 purchase into the back of the car. Jesus.
By the time we got home, I was in severe pain so EN sorted out my prescriptions and doled them out to me like he was a doctor. It became quickly obvious that I couldn't take care of myself, let alone our girls, so he called in sick to work. Champion caretaker, y’all. He got me ice cream, made me soup and fed me medication at the appropriate times.
Today I’m still under the influence of some pretty good shit but I’m getting my sass back. I lectured the boy on how the mugs should be placed on the mug tree. He reciprocated by telling me exactly how the silverware should be placed in the dishwasher. I probably get even more indignant after ingesting codeine, so I said, “Are you lecturing ME?!” and he pointed to the mug rack and said, “Payback.” I attempted to make the point that the mug rack is aesthetically pleasing but the dishwasher doesn't fucking matter. Even the dogs rolled their eyes.
I’m still loaded to the gills and resemble a half a chipmunk. I can’t bear to look in my mouth but I can feel the stitches with my tongue. I consider myself lucky that for right now, I have the means to fix this issue and someday my mouth will look and feel so much better.
But I’m even more thankful to the guy that ran me around town yesterday, then today did endless errands to pick up books from the library and ingredients from the grocery store so I could make something that didn't need to be chewed… as an extra bonus he stopped at McDonald's both days and got me my beloved sweet tea. Granted today, he got himself REAL FOOD, which he feasted on before getting home. I SMELLED it on him
Payback for my sassiness, I’m sure.