Sunday, June 01, 2008

chock full o' stuff

The upshot is that I'll lose my tooth. Oh, there's stuff that can be done in the meantime to buy time to save the five thousand bucks (!) for the titanium implant each one of four specialists recommends I need, not could do with for cosmetic reasons alone, so while I've come to grips with losign a damn tooth (actually, not so much with the coming to grips, but what I HAVE come to grips with is that I can either freak out or accept with grace, the final outcome won't change, so I'd rather move forward without the angstsy shit fucking me up)

You know what shits me most though? Among the other thousand things that shit me about this shitty situation? Is that there is no reason AT ALL anyone can find to explain why this is happening. It's just another one of those fucking things, you know? And my entire frickin' life has been a series of those, so just this one time I'd like to be able to point to a reason and say "Bummer, man, I should have brushed more or had that root canal or whateverthefuckever I should have done to prevent this.", but I can't because apart from the bone eating infection and its mysterious origin, there is nothing wrong with my teeth.

They sit prettily (now, thanks to the orthodontics) in perfectly healthy gums with three perfectly healthy roots holding it in, but one of those roots is sitting in diseased and disintegrating bone, so no matter how healthy the rest of that shit is, if there's no socket to support it all, it's adios, amigo.

One of the specialists, a guy who has met me only once, has rallied my own dentist to work out a patch up deal where they've offer their treatment for free (guys, that's like, a couple of thou worth right there). Their proposal is to root canal my not-technically-requiring-a-root-canal tooth before severing the actual root that sits in the shitty bone, and then doing a gum graft to cover up the hole that gets left behind. Leaving a formerly three rooted tooth with only two is like sitting on a chair with only two legs though, so that'll work for maybe a day, maybe a thousand, and then I'll be right back here again, so the only reason for all this proposed fricking around is that keeping that tooth for as long as possible will slow down or hopefully even halt any further bone loss, which then assists in maintaining stability of the surrounding teeth and offering a viable area for the titanium implant to be, uh, implanted and bla bla BLA.

Jesus H, it sounds complicated and that's because IT REALLY IS. Because of the infection and disintegrating whatsits - which showed itself, like, only two weeks ago - this isn't a simple matter of pulling that fucker out and getting on with it. There's all this fucking surgery that has required three specialists and my dentist to think up so that hopefully I don't end up losing more.

This is like living one of those nightmares where you spit out teeth each time you open your mouth.

Actually, it's not "like" living it, it is living it.

And none of this has any explanation.

I've done so well until now, and really? I'm doing well now too, according to all the dudes invested in my mouth right now (which sounds kind of porny)(and possibly like a viable option for saving that 5K)(for yes, I AM that good)(ahem)(ANYWAY), even though I feel like my concern is a little out there when relating to a single tooth. And they don't know that I'm coping well with this news at the same time I'm coping well with fertilty treatment, so....I must be doing REALLY well. Except I feel like I'm losing my mind.

And I began losing it before I even knew about the recommendation and its associated 5K price tag. Which is why I think I'm over reacting because my brain went into meltdown wehn all it was contemplating was a gap where my tooth now sits.

I'm also pretty pissed because the two months of work I'm into now was supposed to pay for this quarter's bills, and the loan I took out three months ago was supposed to pay for IVF, so I'd got my ducks in a row and had my finances planned and orderly and manageable.

Now though, I've effectively had to weigh up having a child versus saving my teeth, which isn't an argument really, or wouldn't have been if I hadn't just gone through all this surgery and treatment to save my face's appearance and function in the first place.

The child won, obviously, because I fgured I'd ratehr be in debt and pregnant than just in debt, and I began injecting with gonal-f yesterday. Except now I don't know if I'm cranky because I'm stressed or if I'm cranky because of the whacky making hormones circulating my system.

I feel so overwhelmed by this, all of it, and I think I know why I'm freaking out about some of it, at least.

Apart from the prospect of all this extra SHIT ahead of me, that is.

This past year, and the previous two years of knowing and planning, and kind of the rest of my previous LIFE, was meant to have a finish, one that all this was for and one that I kept my eye on when things were grim, tough, painful, lonely, overwhelming or swollen. Seeing that finish, focusing on the day my bands would come off, was like putting an end to ALL the complexities of my difficult life, because life has SO got together and life is SO good, not in comparison to how it has been, but despite it. This has been about so much more than getting my teeth and face straightened.

And that's how I've not been affected by the physical horrors of the past year.

When I imagined the end to all this surgery and banding and all the fucking ugly I;'ve been through, it wasn't meant to also be the start of another arduous journey innvolving my teeth, more uncertainty, and a whole new kid of ugly.

It wasn't meant to be complicated and marred, emotionally and aesthetically, by a dud tooth. Or a dud tooth socket. Or whatever.

And I'm going to stop The Whine now because denial is a better coping mechanism and all this documenting is making that not work so well.

So let's talk about shopping. Which is one of my MOST hated past times, and multiply that by a THOUSAND when applied to bra shopping, but I DID get me some new bras, and no one died in the process, and lord's heaven above, even though they're only t-shirt style and not type ho' push up boulder holders, I actually look like I have a sizeable rack.

Adding to my astonishment is the fact that I'm a freakin' B cup.

Not that I give a shit about that because I like mah boobs' size just fine thankee, it's just that I'm gobsmacked. I mean, I'm flat. FLAT, so who knew so much of my boobage was hiding in my armpit? Not me, that's for sure, but then one halfway decent bra later and wham, it's a boobfest. With underwire. UNDERWIRE, so if one of my more memorable apres baby boob orientated quotes is to be believed, Hell apparently has frozen over.

I'm so hard to fit too that despite being fitted by three (THREE) different fitters, two of them working in tandem and all of them doing this shit PROFESSIONALLY ALL DAY LONG, none could find anything more than "Meh, this'll do the job...". BUT! I found some great fitting bras off the rack (off the "rack" HAHAHA) at K-mart. No underwires cutting my boobs in half, no spillage or lots of vacant space up top, and none of those annoying ass straps riding here, there, and wherever the hell they want. I even had to go to two different stores on opposing ends of town because one store taunted me with a style that was PERFECT but in the wrong colour (white = grey in a week or two, thank you awesomely skanky MyTown water supply) I had to cross town for to find in my size. It wasn't in Store B either but ohmyheavens, at least three different styles there fitted me, and trust, that's like a billion percent more than even the professionals could find for me.

In short? Yay.

Daniel is doing really well too, so well that to look at him, you'd have no idea he was channeling pure BLAH less than a week ago. He's maybe sleeping a little more, but it might just be that he's been home more too. Which has been wonderful because I really DO like spending time with him.

So there it is, the story of my teeth, my meltdown, my ovaries, rationale, my finances, my boy and my boobs.

Things I've not mentioned include my lawyer, my hair, and how much I miss my dad, but it's not because I'm keeping secrets. I just....haven't got around to it, I guess.

Oh, and hey! You know what I've not update you all on AT ALL despite intending to AS IT HAPPENED? My mother. If you're interested, I will. I mean, it's not that interesting and involves mostly that I no longer consider myself her daughter because she's about as useful in our life as tit's are in a bull's. Which sounds suspiciously like an update. With bits missing.

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