Dental Work Brings Out The Cranky In Me

Once upon a time (like, 20 freaking years ago), a lovely young lass had her wisdom teeth removed. The dentist in question had some real problems removing one of the four teeth - in fact, they had to "section" (or quarter) the bottom left wisdom tooth in order to remove it. And having such problems, our dentist was none too happy to have our heroine insist on staying awake during the procedure - much easier to dig in and yank when folks are unconscious. However, finally the procedure was complete and off our heroine went to smoke copious amounts of pot (hey, it was Hollywood 20 years ago) and generally loll around until she no longer resembled a chipmunk.

However, it was a typically hot day in Southern California and, being young and thus lacking foresight, our heroine didn't have her pain prescriptions filled prior to attempting to navigate the Hollywood Freeway from the Valley back to her Hollywood home . . . through the inevitable traffic jam that allowed for a maximum average speed of -5 miles per hour. Fortunately for our heroine and the population of Greater Los Angeles, she brought a driver with her so when she passed out, the only panic attack it occasioned was that of her driver, the infamous Now-Ex (not a person known for handling emergency situations with panache). In fairness, our heroine's deathly pale pallor, seeming heat-stroke symptoms (I mean, it was REALLY hot) and quickly ballooning cheeks would have freaked the most stoic person out - especially when stuck in the middle of the Hollywood Freeway with no seeming alternatives to rescue her from the certain death that appeared around the corner. Nonetheless, finally they wound their way back to Hollywood, to a pharmacy, and finally to the homestead where a combination of codeine, Tylenol and marijuana brought life and liveliness back to our heroine.

Why recap that episode of dental horror now? Because our heroine (hey! that's me!) just had her wisdom tooth out. [beat] I'm waiting - you'll get it. [beat] Yup, it was recently discovered that said dentist (here on out, referred to as "the bastard") did NOT, in fact, remove all four wisdom teeth. It appears when the going got tough, the bastard got out . . . leaving behind most of the allegedly "sectioned" (or quartered) wisdom tooth behind. Yeah, "quartered it"- if, by which, you mean, "took only the top quarter of the tooth" (my current dentist referred to it as a "crownectomy" - WTF?), then sure - thanks for "quartering it." [end bitter sarcasm]

So here I sit, with chipmunk cheek finally subsiding to near normal proportions (but not before scaring the neighborhood kids) albeit a bruised shade of yellow-green that is normally not found outside a diaper (and a lovely abstract pattern of red veining centered therein). I'm out of Percocet but my oh-so-generous dental surgeon [oops, I already said I was done with bitter sarcasm, didn't I? Well, I lied - get over it] gracefully offered me another prescription of 600 mg Ibuprofen. Really? Wow! You mean, you're offering me the same thing I could accomplish by taking three of what's in my damn kitchen?!? Y'know, the stuff that doesn't cut it?!? Wow, thanks. [eyes rolling] I'm so irritated at doctors' over-the-top parsimonious attitude. This overreaction to the 60s/70s over-prescription years is so . . . 90's, y'know? Get over it. Finally, a medical board in Oregon has disciplined a doctor for undertreating a patient's pain. Perhaps the pendulum will finally find the rational center. In the meantime, my freaking jaw hurts and I'm damn cranky -and that's after taking two of the prescription Ibuprofen - 1200 mg total - and four Anacin - another 1200 mg. For someone with my tolerance for pain, that's not good. Oy. [end whine]