Although most of my readers do not frequently talk through a mouth full of cotton balls, I think it should be pretty clear that the first half of the title of this blog is “Mmm hmm, just my lip.” After all, my dentist understood me perfectly fine when this garbled mess is what came out of my throat as he whizzed the drill into overdrive and dug away for my two fillings this morning. I flinched just a bit at one point and his assistant asked if I was alright. I responded with “Mmph huh, hsk hai yit”. My dentist promptly said “Oh I was leaning on her lip when I was drilling.” They send these guys to a translation class I am convinced. It is tough to iterate with a rubber mouth opener, latex dam, drill and scope in your mouth, not to mention the water gun and suction tube. Who knew I had such a big mouth?
OK, admittedly I did know about my big mouth but I always hoped it was just a metaphor and not a realistic prospect that six tools could be jammed in there all at once. Then he asks me to open wider for him. I have no idea if my mouth responded, due to the fat brilliant numbness of Novocain, but my eyes sure did. Was he joking?
Suddenly I feel my entire head being pulled toward his magnifying glasses that make him somewhat resemble Emmett “Doc” Brown from Back to the Future, without the hair of course. I can not help but pray that I regain feeling soon after this procedure is complete as I feel a warm bit of goo roll down my lower jaw line. I immediately know it is drool when he tells his assistant he needs suction under the dam. Oh brother. And people wonder why I did not take part in such joys for so many years.
I walk out with my brand new fillings, a self conscious feeling I slobbered all over the counter like a golden retriever and two new appointments in September. I realize on my way out the door that by the time this dental year is over Matt and I could have put another kid through almost a full year of college. I wonder if we will get an invitation to a ceremony as I head off to my car and call my very pregnant friend, S, who has asked me to pick up B’s birthday cake this afternoon.
I arrive and slur most of “I know just where it is, I can get money from your account to pay for it no problem, should be back in a half hour” and head out the door downing two ibuprofen before I go. Amazingly, none of the water I took them with went down the front of my shirt. That is talent. Or maybe just a really good lean over the sink.
The cake is an ice cream cake from their favorite place in Somerville, just two towns and no more than five miles away. I get there in record time, just under twenty minutes, and get my parking space right out front regardless that it is lunch time in one of the most restaurant rich places near the hospital (I have mentioned my gift of parking spaces before have I not?). The kid asks how far away my place is because it is a mousse cake and rather soft so I tell him only fifteen minutes and he says to get it in the freezer as soon as I get home.
Traffic to Boston is like soap to a shower -- it is difficult to get through one without the other and I hit all the suds on the way back. With the air conditioner blaring in my little Toyota and all the vents pointed at the cake box, I watched the minutes tick up to thirty five as I pulled up to their front door. It was only a little runny as I stuffed it in the freezer and headed home.
By the time I got home I was really hungry and the Novocain was beginning to wear off some so it seemed like the right time to scoff something down. The assistant warned me to only eat soft foods through the evening as I would likely be a bit tender. It was too hot for soup so I grabbed a whole wheat tortilla, hummus, homemade guacamole, cucumber slices, cilantro and baby spinach to make a yummy wrap. It was a really good looking one. I opened my mouth to take a bite and almost dropped the wrap on the floor. Apparently the foods I eat should be flat as well since my jaw felt wired shut. I thought of my own mantra "know your limits".
The wrap was promptly squished flat and I took a bite. Immediately I began laughing at myself as guacamole squeezed out the top all over the side of my face. If I had not seen it out of the corner of my eye it might have stayed there all night since I still could not feel my cheek. Not a drop of that sandwich hit my shirt either. Again, talent or what? Luckily the lack of sensation should not last through the night and I can fully enjoy the experience of that ice cream cake in my entire mouth. Hey, I already know about how much of it I can fit in there.