Back to the Denture

The days have been golden here in the Rockies but something's rotten in Lucy. A few days ago I woke up with one of my lonely molars dangling precariously from my upper jaw. "Lovely," I thought glumly as I jammed it back up there with a blob of Fixodent. However, since the tooth anchored my partial I supposed now I'd have to trudge back into the dentist and submit to Dr. Letha's Dreaded Dental Discipline. This is where she reminds me she told me so. It's true. She did. But I didn't want to be reminded. I just wanted her to fix it---quick and cheap.

Carole had already left for the dog park with Samthegranddog. I called her on her cell to tell her to come home and and take me to the dentist. I wanted the moral support and besides I can't see very well when my teeth are falling out. She was testy when she answered my call.

"Darn it!" she exclaimed. "I just got hemorrhoid cream all over the steering wheel!" (Normally one might wonder how such a thing would be possible---let alone probable. However, I know Carole uses Preparation H on her eyes and hands to tighten up the skin. I just don't understand why she does it in the car.) In any case, annoyed or not, she came home to get me.

Dr. Letha was leaving for the Bahamas the following day but squeezed me in before she left. She wasn't happy. I wasn't either---I hate losing parts. I'd rejected her previous treatment plan on the grounds I'd be dead and broke before it could all be completed. However, with the exception of a bit o' pain and depression I seem to be chugging right along. Besides, I'm pretty sure my mood isn't going to be improved by gaping holes in my smile.

So I've decided to go ahead with the Lucy Dental Improvement Plan. As I may have mentioned, I intend to attend the Blogher convention in Chicago next summer. Now I won't even have to worry about keeping my mouth shut. You've been warned.