I said this on Twitter yesterday. Now I'm going to say it here. Validation is a better pain killer than Extra Strength Tylenol.
I also need to rephrase what I said in a previous post. I don't hate all dentists. I just hate the stupid, jerky ones who don't listen to their patients.
I saw my old dentist yesterday. I took him awhile, but he eventually found the brown spot I was talking about on my back molar. (I think my drawing helped, LOL.) After a lot of poking and prodding, he determined that the spot wasn't a cavity but a bruise of sorts. It seems that my teeth have moved just enough that, when I close them, the bottom back molar knocks into the top back molar and causes a bruise. Since I open and close my mouth all day long, the top tooth has never had a chance to heal, and the bruise has just gotten worse and worse.
To give it that chance, the dentist filed down and rounded out the area with the bruise so that the two teeth no longer touch at that spot when my mouth is closed. While the tooth is still a little sore today--the bruise still has to have time to go away--it feels a hundred times better than it did at the beginning of this week, when I was being told that the pain was just from sensitivity and that there was no such spot. In part, the improvement is from the teeth no longer knocking together; in part, it's also from someone finally believing me that I was in pain.
I have to say, too, that, while my interaction with the dental hygienist was very minimal yesterday, it was still an improvement over Tuesday for three reasons. First, the hygienist did not point at the tracheotomy scar on my neck, scrunch up her nose, and say, "Ew, what happened there? Did you have surgery or something?" She didn't then give me a vacant look and a long "Ohhhh" when I explained to her the scar was from a tracheotomy that I had in the 12th grade. (For Drop Dead Diva fans, the oh was quite similar to the oh's Stacy always gives Jane after Jane says something really smart and Stacy pretends she understands.)
Second, the hygienist did not, just a few seconds later, run her fingers through my hair and say, "Your hair is so pretty. I just had to touch it." I, in turn, did not bit bite my tongue as I thought, "Girl, you can't just go around touching strangers' hair, and you can dang sure can't do it when that stranger has curly hair. Haven't you ever heard of frizz?" I also didn't have to mumble an "Uh...thanks?" a few minutes later to diffuse the awkwardness of the situation.
Third, I did not have the following epiphany an hour after leaving:
I should consider myself lucky that the hygienist did not like my bra.
Now for those of you who wanted to see the pictures of the chair after I finished painting it, here they are. I finally got through with it yesterday.
Before:
After:
My next project is the side table in my bedroom. I never got around to taking a before shot of the table today(long story about running errands with blisters), so I'll just post both shots when I'm done with it.
One last thing. If any of you think my dogs look miserable in the previous post and attribute said misery to the Halloween bandannas, you're misreading the situation. My dogs were pissed because (1) they were hungry, (2) they wanted to run around the yard but I kept making them sit next to each other, (3) the sun was in their eyes, and (4) they don't like having their pictures taken. It was not the bandannas. In fact, when I took Bella's off of her sometime later, she actually started crying and hitting me with her paw and tried to stick her head through the bandanna on her own. I had to put it back on her until bedtime just so she would calm down. Bailey, on the other hand, acted like he could care less whether it was on or off. All he cared about was chasing Bella around the house in an attempt to steal her bone. (He had his own, but he likes Bella's slimy leftovers better.)
I do not abuse my dogs or intentionally make them miserable just so I can dress them up in cute outfits. I am not Paris Hilton. If my dogs had acted like they did not want the bandannas on them, I would have taken them off, as I have in the past with other purchases. For instance, I bought Bailey a sweater one winter because he was always cold, but he refused to even walk in it. That sweater remains in my dresser drawer, unworn and unused, to this day. He did not act like that with the bandanna. He was running around like it was no big deal inside right before the picture was taken. Outside, however, he was a lot less happy, not because of the bandanna, but because of the camera. He's scared of it. Always has been. Always will be. I just tried to turn the pictures into a stupid story because I couldn't think of anything else to write that day. In doing so, I apparently gave off the impression that the dogs were miserable because of the bandannas. I just wanted to clear up that they were not.
For those of you on Entrecard, I once again apologize for falling behind in returning your drops. I was trying to finish the chair. I will try to catch up on them this weekend.
