05 May

So I gotta write about the one thing that’s been “heavily” on my mind the last few days:  I need dentures.  I’m not really dwelling on how I got to this point; I tried to take good care of my teeth but, um, it’s kinda obvious that I didn’t or couldn’t do the best possible job – and I have to accept that.  So, with more thanks to Linda than I could ever say for making this possible, come this Friday, I will spend about two hours in the dreaded dentist’s chair to have my bad teeth removed in preparation of getting dentures.

That I now need them doesn’t fuck with me – but what’s gonna happen after my dentist is done is fucking with me is.  I’m not a fan of pain and I’ve been even less of a fan of it since I had my stroke so, fuck no, I don’t need to experience any more pain but, okay, yeah, it’s ultimately my fault.  The even scarier part is that for the last week, I’ve been off my 81mg aspirin and my Plavix – basically a blood-thinner – because I very well remember that it was probably not taking it (because I couldn’t afford it at the time) was what caused me to stroke in the first place.  But, both my dentist and my personal doctor have assured me that being off my meds for a week isn’t going to hurt me – and it sure as hell ain’t gonna hurt as badly as I’m gonna hurt when the anesthetic wears off!  But despite that, I still have enough Plavix in my system to make half the neighborhood bleed like a stuck pig; see, Plavix is an antiplatelet drug, which means it slows down the ability for my blood to clot and my biggest – and unavoidable – concern is that it’s going to take a very long time for me to stop bleeding… and that’s just gonna be messy.

But my dentist not only knows about this, she’s prepared to deal with it – and I trust her.  What’s really fucking with me?  The moment that anesthetic wears off! Did I mention that already?  Oh… I did, didn’t I?  Now, I did have a choice:  I could have chosen to have the bad teeth removed piecemeal – some now, the rest later but, uh, knowing how much I really don’t enjoy this in the first place, nah, let’s do it all at once and get it over with!  As I told Linda and my mother – and they both agreed – I’d rather experience all this fucking pain once.  Is it fucking with me that for, oh, about a month I won’t have any teeth?  Not really; not only has it become necessary, I think it’s pretty funny – and that’s better than being vain and/or worrying myself sick about that.

Is it gonna feel weird to have 32 teeth again?  Yep, that’s a given.  I’m going to have to learn how to eat all over again – it’s a given that my bite, such as it is right now, is going to be very different after the fact.  Am I gonna have to learn how to make stuff like Fixodent and Poligrip work so that, say, I don’t sneeze and wind up having to pick my teeth up?  Yep… and the thought is just fucking hilarious – I wish you could have seen some of the dreams I’ve been having about this!  And, yes, it did cross my mind that the next time I get to suck some guy’s dick, boy, is he gonna be surprised!  Yep, the fact that I’ll be wearing dentures could be a major turn-off for him but it is what it’s gonna be since the only choices I have is to have dentures… or not have them.  And, oh, by the way?  That stuff you may have heard about a toothless blowjob being damned good?  Believe it… believe every bit of it and, yes, you know I know this for a fact, right?  Shit, I’m already looking forward to figuring out how to eat Linda’s pussy without teeth – that should be loads of fun!

I’m not concerned with any vanity issues and I do trust in God (and my dentist) to get me through this part just fine and dandy; I’m just thinking about dealing with what I’ll have to experience after I get out of that chair… and I am so not looking forward to it.  Linda – and I also thank God for her – will take very good care of me and keep me in good spirits; she will make sure that I do everything I’m supposed to do, no fussing, no questions and, yes, I already know she’s going to be laughing her ass off, not to poke fun at me but because, well, it’s gonna be funny.  The pain, well, fuck no… I really ain’t looking forward to that; I have spent the last nine years learning how to deal with the nerve pain left behind by the stroke (many blessings for the person who invented Lyrica) and I can’t begin to tell you how mentally tasking that is being in constant pain so, um, adding some more pain to the mix just ain’t my idea of fun… so thank God for pain pills.

Am I worried about how I’m gonna eat, say, some time Friday night and going forward from there?  Nope – we prepared for that with lots of soup and other soft stuff and, yes, to think that I’ll be gumming shit to death for a few is just too damned funny… but, yeah, I have to seriously get my mind squared away to deal with the pain and, no, telling myself not to think about it ain’t making a lot of sense.  It’s going to hurt like a motherfucker and while there’s no denying or deflecting this very obvious fact, I do have to make sure my mind is in the right place and not let this extra pain shove me somewhere I don’t want to be, like getting pissy with Linda because I’m hurting or otherwise taking it out on anyone.

It’s become a “necessary evil” for me and I’ve gotten over feeling bad about it – it is what it is and for my continued health, it has to be done.  I can and have accepted this… but I know I ain’t gonna like it much when that anesthetic wears off… and I’m not feeling all that warm and fuzzy about that needle in my mouth, either.  I had to write something about this because it’s making me feel better about the whole thing and, yeah, if y’all don’t hear from me for a while, well, you know why – I’m pretty damned sure I won’t be in a mood to write for a few days.  Comparatively speaking, getting this done isn’t even close to being as bad as having to learn how to walk and use my right hand again so it should be a piece of cake… like hell it is – that shit still fucking hurts!  I’m sitting here writing this and grinning my ass off because it’s just funny and this is the attitude I gotta have and almost in the same way I can see the humor in having had a stroke; in either case, it’s better than being depressed.  I laugh even more when I think that, yep, once more, I gotta man up and do what has to be done and not act like a scared little bitch; I’m not actually afraid… I just ain’t looking forward to it and, yep, I think that’s funny as hell – but I’m also being realistic about it:  It’s gonna hurt bad and I gotta be ready for that.

And I will be ready for it.  Will I be anxious?  Oh, hell, yeah… but that’s why they made Xanax.  Linda will be right there with me to provide support… or laugh at me… and make sure I don’t take a swing at the doctor if I start feeling any pain while she’s working (like I almost did the last time).  This process began with removing the teeth that had broken and that went very well… until she went to remove the last broken tooth – I cannot begin to describe the pain other than saying that it felt as if she never numbed me there – and I know she did… and despite what she said after the fact, I know damned well that she, let’s say, missed a step – that back-side injection.  The pain was blinding and, honestly, had Linda not grabbed my hand when she did, the good doctor was going to get hit; fuck, it was all I could do to stay in the chair because my first instinct was to get up!  Fortunately, I didn’t hit the doctor and I stayed in the chair and said a lot of things my mother would wash my mouth out with soap for… but Linda held on to my left hand and I was literally sitting on my right hand; I got shot up again and the broken tooth was removed… and that fucker still hurt but I sucked it up and toughed it out.

And, oh, goody… I get to go through that shit again?  Whee!

Wish me luck… and it’s okay if you wanna laugh… because I will.

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Posted by on 5 May 2015 in Life, Living and Loving



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