Ow. Owww. OWWWWW! It hurts. Where my teeth used to be.
A couplethree days back, I had three teeth pulled. I'd never before had an 'extraction' as they are called. So, I was way anxious when I went in and my anxiety was justified by a process that was, for me, a living hell.
I don't do well upside down with my breathing cut off!
What? No, I was not really turned upside down, but my head was lower than my feet. I don't like hanging upside down, even on the monkey bars as a kid. And the breathing thing…how can anyone breath during a dental procedure. "Breathe through your nose," they said. That didn't help. Much.
What really got me was the way my head slapped back against the chair when the tooth finally came out. That was truly disturbing. And the sounds. Oh my god, the sounds of teeth getting crushed…
But.
I consider myself lucky. I got into a place where they care about Covid, big time, but also that had a competent dentist, someone I'd never met before. And let me tell ya—I needed to have those teeth yanked. It's a miracle that I went as long as I did without suffering more than I did. I had one tooth that lost a crown, which made it ultra-sensitive to hot and cold and pressure. Avoiding one of those conditions is possible by moving food around in the mouth so as not to offend the 'angry' (as my dentist called them) teeth.
When you got three in two different quadrants of the mouth? Suffer, man, that's all you can do.
And my only real alternative for treatment was to yank those bad boys. Root canals would have driven the cost up so much I wouldn't need to have them done because I wouldn't be able to afford any food. Problem solved.
Teeth. What is the deal with phucking teeth? I mean, shouldn't evolution have caught up with the crummy composition of teeth?
I suppose the rebut of that question is why can't I stop consuming the things that destroy my teeth? I'm afraid I'm losing the battle with sweets right now. Damn it! I went three months without candy/cookies/cake. Let my guard down while a friend stayed with me, and that's all it took. A couplethree days of sugar binging and I was back to where I was three months before—buying the big 'share' packages of Peanut M&M's, bringin' home bags of miniature donuts. It was ugly. The sugar was divine, but it was ugly. The feelings triggered by the sugar lifted my spirit, but it was ugly. I couldn't stop after just one…well, maybe it wasn’t that ugly…
I ate a bag of Hostess Mini's yesterday, my excuse being I can't eat anything 'hard' until my teeth holes fill up. Hostess Mini's are the perfect solution for that problem. Well, aside from the fact they have no nutrients, they're perfect. See? See how it goes in my pea brain?
I'll tell ya one thing: It's time to turn on "The Healthy Animal". Time to activate a mode that I'm not unfamiliar with. I mean, if I went through the pain of having teeth pulled in the name of good health…I can be a healthy animal. Especially when it comes to what I put in my mouth.
For real, the necessary behavior is not that difficult to conjure. It's not a matter of discipline, it's a matter of logic. Good health equals time. You feel me? Every decision I make is either for longevity or…abbreviation. Particularly when it comes to what I put in my mouth. Right? If I eat something loaded with sugar, I'm tellin' myself "I give you permission to eat this in exchange for three days earlier departure from this mortal coil."
I'm serious! Eat a whole bag of donuts? Oh baby, to do that one must be lookin' for the Exits! It's like putting a bullet in your head (although you'd prolly have to find a way to fire Mini donuts from a gun). My alters never hesitate to identify my poor habits. "Have another dab hit, one to grow on? Kiss your lungs goodbye a week earlier." "And how 'bout that third beer going through the pie-hole? What's that doin' for the span?"
You know how I am about math. I look at a couple days here, a week there, how much can the incremental cost of such deals be?
A phucking boatload, that's how much!
And it's not like I want to live forever—I only want that if they find some way to painlessly replace all my teefus!
No, no, that last sentence is a lie—I don't want to live forever because this dimension isn't really our home, anyway. The Other Side is our natural state.
But.
I got shit to do, man. Serious. I got these books, which I am once again working on. I'm actually doing that thing that gives me joy. And sure enough, when I'm head down jamming in the writing…I don't even notice my teeth—or the absence there of.
Which helps to put the whole suffering thing into perspective, doesn't it? My alters chide me for being a wimp. But I'm not really a wimp. I'm a lot tougher than most people think.
And I don't need a bag of donuts a day. Ima put kiwi fruit in my mouth instead.
Here's to the healthy animal!