No one likes the dentist. I keep hearing this from people who have no clue as to my dental care in my past. Nor the PTSD that plagues me because of it. Most offices just classify it as a phobia – that is until they see me in action. We will get you in early or late, they say…yep, that’s going to help. NOT. Frisking me is a better idea.

They don’t get it. I should only have to say this once – my childhood dentist was the love child of Chester the molester and Blotto the butcher. He made the sadist of Little Shop of Horrors look like someone I would want to play with on a Saturday night.

Very few people understand the shock to the deepest parts of my soul that having to see a dentist causes. It is indeed gargantuan. I used to have someone who would pick me up physically and carry me in to make sure I went. My first adult experience didn’t help in any way, it was the removal of all of my wisdom teeth. I had a drastic allergic reaction to the antibiotics to just add some joy.

I was supposed to go today, but the Dentist is sick. That is happy, yes, but scary more – that is another week to fret and sit in a whirlpool of panic. There have been many visits for my teeth in the last year, now I know they will be doing some drilling next week. Damn, I need more drugs for that if my health advocate is going to pull me into that place.

Yes, I want teeth that work, even if they are not my own. It has now been a year since I have had a salad. From what it sounds like to me, next week means 4 to 6 weeks that I will not be able to chew anything. Here goes another 2.2-4.5 Kilos. I have not minded losing weight, but it has made me feel weaker and much older. But here-here to new leather pants. I really need some new bras.

I know it will take some time, and I will need to learn to talk and chew again. Maybe my jaw will settle down too, who knows? What do I want to eat the most? A salad, a steak, anything really. I want to chew my food instead of swallowing it. I never want to see another protein drink in my life. Two more months will make it a complete year since the first tooth exploded in my mouth. Irony…?… I was eating a piece of tofu.

Time; bad genetics; Blotto and Chester’s kid? All topped off with a bottle to my face years ago from stepping in to protect a gay friend at pride day. A nice cherry on top, I know. With the way things are going, I will be shot the next time this happens and my teeth will not ultimately matter. That would be ironic, I think. I have always had problems with that concept; I blame Alanis Morissette.

They will be done soon and I will rise to the ranks of those I have always considered old and have partials too. Old is knowledgeable, wise, and experienced. the ability to recognize what things will work and what won’t before I start something and I know there is always a way around that. I know I will be able to chew a salad soon. Mmmmm carrots.