I sat in the dentist's chair Wednesday morning, expecting that I would be writing today about how my world sucked for the third day running.
But no! There is good news in my universe! Yes!
There is rarely good news when I sit in my dentist's chair. I lost the genetic lottery when it comes to teeth, and to further complicate things, I had probably one of the world's worst pediatric dentists as a child, resulting in dental anxiety that just don't quit.
I am not alone in my traumatization at the evil hands of Dr. BiteMe. My bff also went to him (10 years later) and suffers from the same anxiety to this day.
I have written about this demonic dental den of doom before -- in November -- and the frightening kitty-cat clock with the moving eyes that continue to haunt my nightmares.
Ok, moving on. So yeah, I was expecting horrors today -- and SURPRISE! I got good'ish news!
The last time my hygenist had her hands in my mouth, she got all bent about possible bone loss and some weirdness that disturbed her, and she wanted to refer me to a periodontist. Plus I had had this little dental emergency (detailed vaguely in that November post referenced above) that had led to the removal of a molar.
I freaked. Plus I felt like I was 95 years old and headed for dentures.
So Wednesday morning, feeling all chipper and perky after being able to walk a straight line for the first time in 24 hours, I went for a consultation with my wonderful adult dentist, Dr. Sweetie-Pie.
Oh how I love him.
Because he told me GOOD thing! Like it's not bone loss -- it's a result of how my teeth have shifted following orthodontic-induced tooth pullage at the age of 10. It might LOOK like bone loss, but indeed it is just my mouth (genetics again -- lucky me)!
Plus, the "other weirdnesses" are ALSO not anything to be concerned about and a possible referral to a periodontist was NOT warranted. WHOOOHOOO!
AND -- I am a candidate for a freakin' implant for my missing molar. No partials, no bridges. An implant!
Yes, it is big bucks, but it means I am not an old fart.
A partial? I almost had a stroke at the thought.
Anyway, after the craptasticalness that has been me this week, I took this as a sign.
Yes, I meant a GOOD sign.