I had to have two cavities filled today. I am revoltingly healthy, in general (knock on wood). I broke an arm when I was eight, other than that, nothing. My mother claims that those of us who haven’t had kids are wusses, because we haven’t had all of our most private parts invaded by armies of medical professionals, and she might have a point. I also, thanks to the deities, inherited my father’s sturdy teeth. Aside from orthodonture, and a few cavities, I’ve been pretty lucky on that front. The last cavity I had was probably 15 years ago (and was filled by my former camp counselor, now a very accomplished dentist who alarmingly sang camp songs the whole time).
So, because I am a wuss, my dentist, who is also a friend, gave me so much anesthetic in that side of my face that I didn’t feel anything, which was great, but I came home and went to take a sip from a glass of water and thought the glass was broken. It felt like there was a big old half moon missing from the glass! Turns out it was just that I couldn’t feel anything. Weird.
And because I’m such a wuss, I broke into the stash of drugs left from when Patrick died — I took a lovely half a xanax before heading over there, but that, along with all the anesthesia, plus the letdown after all that adrenalin from being hysterical about having a part of my body drilled into with a drill — I came home afterwards and climbed into bed like I was eight years old. The dogs jumped up and settled in with me. We all took a very restorative nap.
It’s been a long few weeks. Sometimes, as much as you dread it, something like having a couple of cavities does give you the opportunity to take a nap. And sometimes, even though it was scary, and painful, and horrifying (when you are a wuss like me) on the other hand, it’s a good excuse to take a nap. And some of us, sometimes, need an excuse, because we’re not people who can just take naps.