Teef Fah Ow

So this just happened.

I was brushing my teeth like an ordinary normal everyday person when the fake tooth next to my two front teeth and two attached coverings for an eye tooth and whatever that first molar is called fell out along with a small metal post I managed to grab before it went down the drain.😱

I mean, it's Saturday, ffs. I'm unemployed. It's raining.😡

Ugh. I hate having to deal with dental stuff. Or anything, really. I am totally done dealing.😠

To top it off, it all happened immediately after reading a piece in The Guardian by a young man of thirty describing his less than stoic reaction to finding out he has blood cancer, initially diagnosed as imminently fatal, later reduced to chronic but requiring pints of blood be drained regularly - until it may become imminently fatal again - and realizing I have a good friend living with this very condition.😬

I was feeling grateful for my good health fortune, dammit!😎

Anyway, I thought I was in shock, but I may have been faking. You know, acting out how I thought I should feel after having my teeth fall out, rescuing them and a little metal post from going down the drain, and then looking in the mirror to see little greying stubs where my fake tooth and teeth covers used to be.😖

I made it quite dramatic, staring in horrified fascination at my new hillbilly look, the real me as it turns out, but while also registering the distinct lack of pain.👀

Not feeling pain during something untoward like your fake teeth falling out is everything, isn't it.😒

Then, I'm ashamed to admit (and he'll be reading this for the first time if he reads this) I decided I should go show My Blond Companion the new me by smiling and opening my hand to show him where my teeth were now.😜

Except, of course, I was still acting like I was in shock (I probably was, it was pretty shocking) and I'm trying to remember his reaction now but I believe it was along the lines of, "Okay you need to call the dentist."😮

So I called my friend (at this point I had shoved the fake teeth back into place) and she said, "Okay you need to call the dentist."💁

So I called the dentist and for the second time in my life I'm meeting a dentist at their office on a Sunday, the first time being a million years ago when I met the lovely Dr. Stanley Goldman at his office to deal with an abscess, the tricky part convincing his wife to let me talk to him because I knew if I could just get past her he'd do it.💂

I don't blame her. She probably had dozens of young women wanting to meet Stanley at his office on the weekend. Hundreds, maybe. And sadly I believe he committed suicide many years ago now. Decades, I guess. An occupational hazard, apparently.😢

Oh, my dentist, who is equally lovely but also very upbeat, already told me to take the fake teeth out again tonight, so don't worry about it. She wants me to stay alive. I'm keeping her practice going strong.💪

How's your Saturday goin'?😍