Jack Fell Down

We interrupt the almost-caught-up kitchen story for this special announcement:

Yesterday was supposed to have been the bestest day.

Johnny’s been down with the flu and I thought I was catching it from him. I know, Yay! Right? But the thing is, it was also supposed to snow down all this sloppy snow and be a great big wintry mess out. So I was supposed to catch the flu, and Johnny and I were supposed to spend the day together sick-a-bed before the fire, eating chicken soup and watching silly movies on the box with the moving pictures. Then, at the end of the day, I was supposed to get a phone call from My One Friend telling me she got the job and that she and I were making another cross-country road trip in a month or two!

Instead…

I didn’t get sick: I had to go to work.

It didn’t snow: it rained.

And, when I was rinsing with mouthwash so as to not gas out all the work-folks, my temporary crown floated away.

Okay, I exaggerate. It did not exactly “float away.” I had it. In a ziploc bag. But let me just say this:

Grammar-school-ish things that are still fun when you’re thirty-eight: Staying home on snow days, even if you’re sick.

Grammar-school-ish things that aren’t: Spitting out your teeth, even if they’re fake.

This was not quite the disaster that it could have been. Remember, this was a temporary crown. I was still waiting for the phone call that would pronounce the real one ready, and this whole ordeal finally over with for good. But I had no idea when that call would come. I hated the thought of walking in without an appointment and waiting two hours for some random dentist that I’d never met to have a spare five minutes to put my tooth back in my head, only to get that call tonight telling me to come on in tomorrow.

So I called.

Smart, yes? Very unlike me, no?

I explained the situation to the lady on the phone, and she told me I had to talk to my dentist – Dr. Canadian. She said only my dentist could put my tooth back in my head (sheesh, when did we get so proprietary about these sorts of things?), and so I had to call her.

Honestly, I would have called her first, but I had lost her number.

Lady on the Phone gave me Dr. Canadian’s cell phone number, and I called. Got voice mail. Left message. Finished writing. Checked voice mail. Worked out. Checked voice mail. Showered. Checked voice mail. Dressed. Checked voice mail. Went to work. Checked voice mail. Went to other work. Checked voice mail.

Nuthin’.

Told everyone my crown fell out and my dentist hadn’t called me back which I was taking as a sign it didn’t matter and I could just live like this for another week until the permanent was ready. Got told how stupid that was and to deal with it ASAP.

Checked voice mail.

Nuthin’.

Fine.

So I marched on down there (or drove, technically), marched on in, plunked myself at the reception desk and announced that someone was going to put my tooth back in my head.

“Who’s your dentist?” Lady at Reception asked me. I told her, and she paged Dr. Canadian.

But why? Why, when she hasn’t returned my call all day, do we have to wait for her? Can’t just somebody else just do it? What if she’s not here, or doesn’t answer the page, or what if any number of other things? Are you going to make me go home toothless? What if I do, and what if—

“Erin, hi! I’ve been with patients all day and only just got your message. I’m so glad you’re here! I’ll be done in fifteen minutes and then I’ll cement it in for you, is that okay?”

Um, so what you’re saying is I should stop bitching now?

“Okay.”

She actually came back in ten minutes. Done with me in fifteen more. And, while she worked, told me an entertainingly creepy story about her very first crown patient who kept pulling out his own temporary crown. (“Why?” I asked her. Let’s just say the story started with “He was kind of a perv…” and ended with her reporting said patient to the administration.)

She said my real crown ought to be in on Monday, and she’d call me to set something up next week. We both agreed how dumb it was they wouldn’t have just let somebody else put me back together in the morning instead of making me wait all day – but then, if they had, I never would have got to hear the creepy story. (Dr. Canadian is writing a book about her experiences in dental school, so maybe someday you’ll get to hear it in her words.)

And that was it. My snow-sick day, gone to hell.

Well, not completely. We did have our fire last night after all. And, considering the crown was probably going to fall out anyway, I suppose it’s a good thing I did not get sick. If I catch it now, though, I am spending the whole weekend on the couch with silly movies.

Oh, and One Friend? Probably got the job, but is not sure it’s the right fit for her after all. She still might take it, but we’re most likely not driving across the country.

Stupid One Friend, going around making grown-up decisions about her own life, without a thought as to their consequences regarding my vacation plans.

Achoo. I think I feel a sniffle coming on…




I will bring the kitchen tale to its up-to-date “conclusion” tomorrow morning. With any luck (if we can keep Andy sober long enough), it will be real-life continued by tomorrow afternoon.