Suzy Says

Well, the holes in my mouth and yard are filled in. For now.

Getting my Golden Jubilee crown was not as festive as it sounds. The dentist applied the anesthetic, and after it made my face feel rubbery and weird, tilted the chair way, way back until I was practically upside down. I pointed out that I felt like a bat sleeping in a cave, and he said it was good for my brain cells, which I agreed I could definitely use.

The down side of the head down is that the freezing spread through my face, encompassing my nose and the side of my eye, which was a little alienating. Still, it was a joy compared to the piercing, shrieking hell that is the drilling.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I’m glad this wasn’t happening to me in the year of my grandmother’s birth, or of mine, for that matter. Things dental have improved considerably during my reign. However, the fact remains that one’s senses are unpleasantly assaulted by the sound of drilling (not to mention the thought of it) and the smell of burning bone which is its unlovely accompaniment.

I realize that they can’t render us unconscious for such a trivial procedure, but couldn’t they at least have a DVD player and headphones so a girl could distract herself? Considering that these are standard equipment in many cars these days – God forbid that kids should have to actually talk to their family or look at the scenery – it seems an obvious amenity for a place where everyone wants to be distracted.

Somehow, I hadn’t realized that they were going to put in a temporary crown, while my real one is tailor made. So this was sort of a dress rehearsal and I have to go back in two weeks to get the real crown. Fortunately there will be no drilling the next time (I hope). I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, though. I know the Queen’s crown is very heavy, but I bet it doesn’t hurt as much as my mouth did the next day. I felt like I’d been punched in the mouth by Muhammad Ali.

Meanwhile, Mark and a couple of guys were working hard at the septic system. It turns out there were some roots in the way and various other tweaks and improvements to be made, but he’s basically done now, other than a couple of finishing touches and cleaning up. It also turns out that my toilet was Frankensteined together from various commodes in James’ epic decades-old collection, so that’s the reason behind its general torpor and underachieving. I’m not sure that will be corrected before Mark and his family take off on their East Coast adventure, but at least the septic system is working and my tooth is fixed.

More or less.