I went to the dentist this morning, for the first time in about seven years.

I know, I know. There's no excuse for it. One of my New Year's resolutions was to get my teeth issues resolved. Not that I knew what those issues were exactly, just that I was sure I had some. You can't have parts of your teeth chip off, and on more than one tooth, and not expect that you're not going to have other problems uncovered. Especially when those parts chipped off more than a year ago.

Seriously. I know.

So The Boy recommended to me his dentist, and off I went. I steeled myself for a scolding, but the dentist - a lovely young woman named Michelle - was rather sweet and kind about the whole thing as she dove into my mouth. And actually before, too. She smiled and giggled at me while viewing my X-rays, asking if I wasn't sure that it wasn't another tooth causing me some slight pain. The whole process was turning out to be one big exercise in niceness.

"We'll need to actually do a deep cleaning," she said. "And that takes a couple of visits. You've got some tartar build up ..."

"Ok," I said, cheerily. This was clearly no big deal. I was ready for anything. Walk in the park. With puppy whiskers and cupcakes and rainbows.

"... but we'll get that done before you'll need to take care of a few root canals ..."

That's right. A FEW. Not "a" root canal, as in singular. A FEW. Jesus. I mean, when someone wants to state their aversion to doing something, they usually just need to say, "I'd rather have a root canal" because obviously you can stop right there and get your point across. No need to get all dramatic and greedy by pluralizing the act with "I'd rather have a few root canals."

I have to have THREE root canals done. Plus, the big kicker, I have periodontal disease, which didn't surprise me much since she said I needed to have the deep cleaning. Maybe it was just because I was still dealing with the shock from learning I am going to have to have THREE ROOT CANALS PERFORMED ON MY MOUTH and I haven't had the chance to register that my gums are infected and diseased. There are crowns in my future. Other things, too. Honestly, I just kind of blanked out after a while. My mouth is just a black hole of grossness.

Thank you, years of smoking, rare flossing, and visiting a dentist only once during your adult years!

So it looks like I will be spending the greater portion of this year dealing with my mouth issues. My dentist, whom I still find lovely and sweet, especially since she loves my boyfriend (probably because he takes care of his teeth and also is a Sox fan like her) and called us, "the cutest couple ever," says my insurance should cover about 80% of all of it, which is good because this all will probably cost a gajillion dollars to fix.

The Boy cynically notes that we're probably "the cutest couple ever" owing to the fact that between the two of us, we're spending an awful lot of money on her dental services.

In the past several months, after visiting my eye doctor, general practitioner, and now, dentist, I have walked away from each learning that I have something wrong with me that isn't horrible, but just horrible enough to annoy me for the rest of my days. It's as if I entered my 30s and subsequently started falling apart. Next month I'm scheduled to visit my gynecologist and God help me if she gets down there and tells me that's not working right, either.

I think maybe I'll just stay home. Ignorance is bliss, people.

Posted by Erin at 02:58 PM | filed under: Random Stupidity