My Implant Surgery

Well guys, it’s time to let the cat out of the bag. Tomorrow I’ve got a surgery I’m admittedly pretty nervous about. This might be something most probably keep to themselves, but I’ll just say it, tomorrow at 9:30 a.m. I’m going in for implant surgery. Keep your judgements to yourself because this is something I’ve wanted since I was a little girl. I know it’s just going to make my life a lot better and that’s really all that matters to me.

But of course I’m still absolutely terrified and have so many worries and questions about what is going to happen tomorrow. Like how bad is this going to hurt? What will the recovery be like? Will there be a lot of swelling? Will I still feel like me? Will people judge me for being vain? But then I have to remember the alternative is that if I don’t have this surgery, my front tooth will just eventually fall out all together and unless I’m planning to join the D.C. Lynch Carnival group, that obviously wouldn’t be good. And besides, it’s just a dental implant, how bad could it be?

Wait, what kind of implant did you think I was talking about? Boobie implants? And risk the chance of no longer being able to buy shirts from the children section at Target? No thank you. Me and my ten year old boy chest are just fine.

But that tooth of mine, we’re not so fine.

Let me take you back to 1990. It’s a cold dreary evening in November and in an attempt to beat the winter blues three-year-old-me made a few too many dirty apple juice martinis and decided it was time to get a little fabulous by putting on a fashion show. I drunkenly started to dress in some of my mother’s best ball gowns and sparkly high-heeled shoes. Well one thing led to another, and the next thing I know I’m yelling at my Cabbage Patch Doll, Claudia, for using wire hangers even though I had explicitly told her time and time again no more wire hangers! when I ran out of my room in a fit of rage and suddenly tripped on the heels I was wearing (mind you they were about ten sizes too big) and I tumbled down the stairs. I tumbled hard. And I cracked my bottom front tooth, killing not only the tooth, but the root as well.

And thus I would go on to have dental problems for the next twenty plus years. I had root canals, crowns, Marilyn bridges (that’s a dental term), more root canals, crowns put on, teeth pulled, crowns taken off, and every other problem you could think of for years to come. Which would also inevitably lead to my addiction battles with nitrous oxide. As a little kid I would obviously hate going to the dentist office, but sometimes I would make up problems just so I could go in and get my fix. I jonesed for that laughing gas like none other. Oh God did I ever. More times than not my dentist would tell me to “take it easy” on the oxide, which as an addict only led me to want it more.

This photo was taken shortly after the incident, notice the gaping hole between my bottom front row of teeth. I’m trying to mask my pain by acting like I’m having the best time ever. But it’s not fooling anybody.

This was taken on my first day of Kindergarden. The sadness in my eyes is so evident. So is the missing tooth. And I was trying out a new smile, I called it “the underbite.”

And then here’s a photo of me right in the thick of my nitrous oxide addiction. It’s clear I’ve just given up on life at this point and stopped showering all together. My greasy hair is basically sticking to my face.

But I do love that Navajo inspired cross bag I’m wearing. I never let my great sense of fashion go, at least I’ve got that. And just for the record I’m posing next to a Kansas City Chiefs cheerleader. Nbd.

Long story short, I’m nervous as hell about having a dentist drill into the bone of my mouth tomorrow, but I know it has to be done to put all of this behind me once and for all. After I get this implant, I should never have problems with this tooth again. Meaning it will never just fall out like it did in 7th grade at a school dance causing everyone to call me Hill Billy Wolfe for the next few months… Or in high school at a football game. Or while at work just two years ago.

Once that mask is placed over my nose tomorrow morning I know everything will be alright…