10-6-10

This is such an odd ride I am on.

I found another plastic surgeon in my state that takes my insurance, that brings the available doctor count up to ...two. So I made an appointment with this guy to check out my options.

First guy didn't give me the warm fuzzies. First, when he saw my scar he groaned and kind of rolled his eyes and griped about surgeons who were just worried about cutting cancer out. Second, his best bet is to take muscle from my back to make a boob. I need muscle more than I need boob.

Maybe this second guy will have more balls, maybe he will be willing to try an implant on my radiated chest.

The point in here was, making a plastic surgery appointment sounds like a hopeful, positive thing to do. Sounds like moving forward, putting this behind me, yada yada.

I also went to the dentist today. The stress is making me grind my teeth in my sleep so hard that I have a loose tooth. I talked to the dentist about my options and we came to the point of "save the teeth" or "pull the teeth".

I sent my kids to the waiting room (they had just had their cleaning and were enjoying seeing me getting poked and prodded in the chair). I flatly told the dentist that I had no intentions of sinking a bunch of dough into my mouth when I probably would not live to old age. Saving teeth would be great if I was going to make it to my 80's, but I don't see that happening.

That did not sound like a very positive, hopeful thing to say.

I don't think it is a boob versus teeth thing, I believe that teeth are more important that boobs. It is a 10-15 year thing. I don't think I need to go into debt to save this damn tooth, especially since I can't stop grinding it in sleep.

I bought a new Night Guard, I chewed through the last one. This one comes with a "chew threw" warrenty, if I grind a hole in it, they will replace it.

Won't I feel like an idiot if I make it to the nursing home and bitch that I had that damn tooth pulled and have to stay on a soft, nursing home diet.