Dental Visit
Just got back from my favorite annual dental checkup which I try to schedule every 4 years whether I need it or not. I take great care to maintain my choppers since these are the only part of my body not likely to betray me in an evil alliance with gravity. At the end of the visit, I made a mental note to encourage every one of my children to enroll in dental school so they can make me a rich, broad-smiled woman in my old age. Of course I have Annika to blame for my dental experience. Sunday, we played dentist together. She ransacked my medical supplies and various unidentifiable tools of torture garnered from Rune's workshop and converted by bathroom to a top notch, one stop shopping dental mall, complete with masseuse. I was alittle nervous when she called my from the "waiting room" as her last patient, Lukas, was under her control for 45 minutes. But as long as I wasn't following one of the dogs, I thought, 'what's the worst that can happen?' Ha! After applying a solar panel-turned xray scanner to my jaw, she announced that I had two holes in my teeth. I thought she was kidding til I looked for myself. So I made an appointment for a second opinion the next day. As you can imagine, this was a great and interminable insult to Annika. Nevertheless, I forged on with my commitment and went to the dentist today. Now about the visit: First of all, they take close up color pictures of every flaw. We're talking 9 x 12 glossies of each messed up tooth for you to lament over. Unlike the old xrays, these have the additional advantage, from the dentist's point of view, of magnifying each restoration-worthy nook and cranny. Mine involved two teeth. One with a hole the size of Rhode Island and the other with a crack that rivals the Grand Canyon. I expected to see a team of archeologists digging for ancient artifacts or at the very least, signs of the elusive Big Foot. Anyway, I'm rambling. So I sign my life and finances away to dam these mighty crevices after adding a memo to my Palm Pilot to call the bank about a tooth equity loan later in the afternoon. Gone are the days when you take care of these things in two stages--one day for impressions and another to place the freshly milled overlay probably produced in garage by someone with a total of three teeth, all rotten, to his name. Now they have Cerac, a costly but more technologically advanced way for you to part with your money in a quicker and more intense fashion. They coat your tooth with something that, when scanned, send the topographical and color information to a compter. These results, after a few on screen tweaks by the dentist to justify both his very existence and his bill, are then sent to an onsite milling machine which carves your new overlay from a solid block of glass like stuff. A few needles, drills and epoxies later and my winning smile is back. Sadly, being 1500 smackers poorer gives me less to smile about, but I comfort myself in knowing I will bring joy to the world through the comedic nature of my speech: Thanks to a mouthful of anesthetic, I now talk as though my IQ has plummeted 100 points. This is not good seeing as how my perceived IQ was already on shaky ground because of my southern drawl.