I know "they" say you shouldn't, but I am writing in the most comfortable space I have. Bed. You see, I saw the dentist this morning. He gave me a crown! The last molar on the upper left, it felt like waterboarding at one point in the procedure. So here I am recovering, writing like a faithful Magpie.
I don't do well with dentistry. Actually, I take that back. I do much better now with it, because, I have had so much work done! And, Dr. Krant told me so today. He's known me a long time, and I am sure he is correct. My eyes don't dilate like they used to while I am waiting to pass out. And I am not holding on to the chair with my butt cheeks perspiring.
Another thing, I should tell you, is I have good teeth. What I didn't have, as a child, was dentistry. You know the kind where they praise you for brushing, and flossing.
No regular check ups, zip, nada, nothing. No controversial fluoride. This was part and parcel of the whole neglect picture my parents gave me. (This goes for health care too.) The problem with neglect is that a child is naive about these things.
I learned about it the hard way. At sixteen, I learned what pain was. A cavity in a bottom molar had festered (probably for years), until the pain was so exquisite the only solution I knew was to place the hose of my hairdryer blowing warm air on it for relief. Finally, I told my mother about it.
Ironically, she was working for a dentist at the time. She got me in. He had a lot of digging to do. It had to be pulled. A first time trip to the dentist, it was a doozy. What I learned later, is that once a molar goes, the other parallel molar is somehow susceptible to the same fate? Maybe, but I lost the twin tooth to decay as well.
So maybe dear Magpies, this one may have been one for the Body prompt, but this is the one you get for today's. Time to swish with salt water. Signing off, SM