The dentist

So I went to the dentist today.

And it only gets worse from there.

My visit today was actually a follow-up to a visit I made a couple weeks ago. See, in all of our transitioning and settling, I hadn't seen a dentist in more than two years. I was overdue for a checkup, and -- though I try to take good care of my teeth -- I feared the worst as I settled into the chair that day.

I left with the news that I had two cavities -- my first since I was in grade school -- and a follow-up scheduled for this afternoon to get them filled.

I think I winced every time I glanced at the clock today, knowing my return to the dental chair was nearing. Shortly after 2:30 I was back in the same chair I'd occupied a couple weeks ago.

The dentist -- a young, energetic guy -- greeted me and tried chatting me up about the start to the baseball season; he'd remembered that I liked baseball from our conversation a couple weeks ago. ... Then he numbed up my mouth, and several minutes later he and a hygienist were poking all sorts of tools in my mouth and doing their thing.

Honestly, the whole thing went fast and was relatively painless. The worst part is what I'm dealing with at this moment ...

I have almost no feeling on the right side of my face.

After my appointment, I couldn't talk straight. I canceled my meetings for the rest of the afternoon and came home to finish my work.

When Kates arrived home with Phoebe, she took one look at me and gasped, "Oh my God!" Apparently my face was a little mishapen, too.

For supper, I needed to eat something soft. So Kates made me grilled cheese and some tomato soup. I could barely chew my sandwich and part of every spoonful of soup slipped out of a corner of my mouth like drool.

Worse still, I can't bring my lips to purse the straw of my favorite glass for some water.

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