I got screwed

Today's post is being written in advance (dirty little secret, all my posts are written in advance).

But yesterday, Wednesday, I went to see my dentist to begin some major restorative work.

Today, Thursday I will, hopefully, be under the hazy influence of some major opiates.

Just to screw around with the time-space continuum a bit more, a long time ago my brother and I were wrestling in the top bunk of our bunk beds. Oddly enough, on certain family get togethers and providing there is enough alcohol we still like to tangle for alpha male dominance.

In any case, my brother kicked me off the top bunk. I landed on the hard wooden floors face first. Actually upper jaw first. The six foot fall knocked out my two front teeth and left a pool of blood on the hardwood floor that was a 1/4 inch deep.

As a result I was the only kid in first grade with dentures.

Years later when I moved out to California I decided to replace the flipper in my mouth with something more permanent. Low on financial resources I took my dilemma to the UCLA Dental School, where apprentice dentists work free of charge.

I was assigned an Egyptian student who, after taking one look in my mouth, practically jumped for joy. He said my missing front teeth would be the perfect assignment for his final exam.

Under the watchful eyes of tenured professors in dentistry, George, an odd name for an Egyptian, installed a permanent bridge across my upper jaw. Weeks afterwards, he sent me a kind thank you letter and told me he received an A+ on his final exam.

That bridge help up for more than 25 years until last week when I was gorging myself on some BBQ beef ribs. I heard an audible crack and thought maybe I had splintered the bone on the rib.

No such luck. The porcelain teeth broke off the metal bridge.

I looked in the mirror and saw metal, lots and lots of metal.

And now the bridge must come down.

I've come to learn that dentists don't do bridges anymore. They favor dental implants. So yesterday a few titanium bases were drilled into my skull. Weeks from now those bases will be plugged. And weeks after that new beautiful enamel teeth will be screwed onto the bases.

But it will be worth it. Not only because I will receive a new prescription for Vicoden.

But, and this is hard to fathom, I've been led to believe that when all is said and done I'll be even prettier than I am today.