I am tired as hell, man. I've been tired all week because of the killer migraine at the beginning of the week, and not being able to sleep well all week, and then today (my day off) I had a dentist appointment with New!Nice!Dentist at 9 am, so I couldn't even try to sleep in.
I suspect my not sleeping well (and my migraine) was from stress about the dentist and my broken tooth and my teeth in general. For 2 weeks I've been expecting to go in, have the dentist recoil in horror, tell me he's never seen such awful teeth in his life and that includes farm animals, and then tell me that most of my teeth are rotted and need to come out.
No, I swear to god that's really what I was expecting at this point. (I am basically functioning well and happy now that it's over a year off anti-depressants, but my brain has The Crazy locked up in the back room and lets it out at the drop of a hat.) I was in tears while I was getting ready this morning. All Tim could do was pat my back and tell me my teeth were going to be fine. But I didn't believe him, because HE'S not a dentist! (No, I really leveled that accusation at him. Like it was supposed to be hurtful or something.)
Because, man, I don't even KNOW. I hate my old dentists (who I still need to get my records from), so I no longer trust that they properly treated me, EVER, and MAYBE they didn't notice that all my teeth were rotting out of my head and in worse shape than the teeth of a 12-year-old farm mule.
You crack one damn tooth, and your mind goes right into Willy Wonka's tunnel of fucked-up imagery, I tell you what.
So. I saw the dentist this morning -- the appointment was largely to get a gazillion x-rays because I'm a new patient, and because I had a lot of questions about getting a bridge vs. an implant for the broken tooth that has to be pulled.
My teeth are NOT rotting out of my head, and although the dentist didn't say anything to compare my teeth to those of a farm animal, I think perhaps mine aren't the worst teeth ever. Certainly not a contender for the Big Book of British Smiles.
In fact, I have no new cavities (I was actually shocked, and asked him to double-check the x-rays), and no real problems other than the tooth that has to come out. I have one tooth that will need a crown some time in the next year, but at this point, comparatively, that's no big deal. And I'm overdue for a cleaning and should probably be on better terms with flossing than I am.
I have to make an appointment with the dentist who does the implants, to have that taken care of -- he will pull the tooth and then do the implant dealie.
So I was perhaps stressing myself out unduly. I am, as I said, tired as hell. I think I'm going to go see the Avengers at the cheap theater this afternoon. It's the only thing I can think of to soothe my jangled nerves, and I am not kidding. You are the only people I can say that to who I know will understand.
t edit Damn, the cheap theater is $7 before 6 pm? Whose definition of "cheap" is that? (I mean, I'm still going to go, because -- Avengers! But damn.)