Well hi there.
I haven't written in a long time, and I have no real excuse other than, I haven't posted the things that I have been thinking about and kicking around. It's been a year that has felt like a decade, and everyone's tired and everyone's anxious to get out and do stuff again but it's getting cold as shit again, yeah, everyone feels it. I know.
I would love to tell you that things will start to feel normal again soon. I would love to tell you that everyone is going to come together and be happy and healthy and cooperative and everything good starting this next week, forever and ever. And I'd love to tell you that I'm completely out of embarrassing and down-trodden stories for you, and everything else will be optimistic and uplifting and heartfelt going forward from this blog whenever you read it, and that I will be sure to write much more often. But, as you likely already know, I can assure you of not a single one of those things. They could happen, to be sure. They very likely won't.
And I get it, you don't give a shit if I write anymore in this blog or not (I'm a bit hurt you feel that way, but I'll manage) but the larger point, about still not feeling like things are normal, I wish I had a way of helping you feel that. The thing is, sometimes there are things that we need to hear, despite what we want to hear. As in, even when we know bad news is coming, sometimes we want to hear it in a good way so it won't feel as bad. I feel like there's a number of different versions of this throughout pop culture, but I already know the version of it I want to use for this point.
The late great comedian, Patrice O’Neal, said something that I enjoyed once about truth and how people like to take it. He likened it to two different types of medicine: Robitussin and Dimetapp. I'll do my best to break down how he compared the two.
The Robitussin version of truth is nasty. It’s uncomfortable, it’s thick and makes you gag and make a nasty face, and it’s strong so you get drowsy and sleepy from using it. But it’s also effective, or at least more effective, as it knocks you out and you can get some rest and get over what you’re dealing with faster because of it. On the other hand, Dimetapp is much more pleasant, and it’s got a good taste, and it’s not too thick and not very heavy so if you need to do something else after taking it you can probably do that. But it’s often less effective for most, and you’ll probably have to take it over several days before you get better. But more people, according to Patrice, will take the good tasting version over the more-effective version. They’ll prefer to be comforted more than getting direct and definitive treatment that’s less pleasant. And I couldn’t agree more.
(I think Patrice used Buckley's instead of Robitussin, but I never had that as a kid so I can't compare it the same)
(Also, please don't use this as a reason to alter any medical advice you've been given anywhere else, as I have no factual basis for saying any of this anecdotal shit)
They say the truth hurts. I’m not sure it always does, but the phrase doesn’t sound as good when you say, “The truth sometimes hurts and sometimes is awesome.” You can’t do anything with that saying. But when you got truth that hurts, not everybody wants you to just spit it out and get to the point. A lot of people do want to be let down slow, or they want to get a silver lining of something so they get to feel better about what went down. And many times, this leads to not dealing with the issue at hand and stringing things out further than needed.
And I should know, because I’ve had people tell me things in the polite way when they should have told me things directly. Many times, in fact. There are a few good ones to choose from, but I’ll use one example that I am still technically dealing with today.
I had a lot of really nice dentists over the course of my life. I wish that I hadn’t.
It’s not that I didn’t care about the condition of my teeth. It’s just that I never really thought it was going to screw me over in any real scenarios. Back in high school, I had braces for a few years, and I did a decent job of brushing. Flossing, not so much. Frankly, it’s a huge pain in the ass to floss when you have braces on, and who has time for that? (Literally everyone has time for that, by the way) Anyway, the braces come off, and there’s some slight issues here and there, but my teeth look fine and my dentists and hygienists that I went to are always really nice about suggesting ways to improve.
And in college, they were just as polite, even when I went to get cleanings a bit less often, usually on holidays or summer, and with the occasional cavity here and there, but again, everyone’s really nice and trying to be soft in handling it, not out to make me feel bad.
And then after college, when I wasn’t working a real big boy job yet and was off of my family dental plan and kind of needed to take charge of this (I definitely didn’t), I was still under the impression that how I was going about it was still basically okay (it wasn’t) and that no real consequences were just about to come up (I’m getting to that part now).
The thing is, even if the dental professionals were not being direct about how things were going in my mouth, others were starting to drop stronger hints than I initially realized. Like the time I got home and my dad made it about ten seconds into me getting off the plane before asking if I’d brushed my teeth that week. Like a stranger on a bus ride that offered me a free piece of gum twice within a span of 30 seconds and then essentially gave up her seat to no one. Like a girl I met at a bar one summer who literally looked back in horror at me and described it as “nothing” only after downing a shot of Rumplemintz with me. I’m not saying Rumplemintz was what I ordered or wanted to drink, but I was offered it a few more times than I care to bring up, and the state of my teeth/gums/mouth area could very easily have been the cause.
Where did all of this come to a head, you ask? Well, finally after one visit, I had to get a root canal on one of my front teeth. For those of you that don’t know, that’s where they have to go down into the root of a tooth and clean out a probable infection. So much fun, by the way. If you get a chance, watch a YouTube video of someone getting one, because it will ensure that you NEVER LET IT HAPPEN TO YOURSELF. I remember the doc that performed the root canal, an endodontist. Another very nice guy, very funny. He even went as far as to make the procedure feel almost normal and expected, which I appreciated at the time.
No. Bad endodontist.
I got the procedure done, and then I scheduled another visit to get a crown put on the tooth that they operated on. Low and behold, I scheduled it as the same day as a wedding I was going to of a friend from college. I figure, no big deal, I’d rather go to the ceremony than get this taken care of. What’s the rush, it’s not like I use my teeth all day every day and should get this taken care of as soon as possible. I’ll just reschedule getting the crown on so that I can more fully enjoy this wedding.
Two days after the wedding, on Sunday morning, I’m eating a bagel sandwich at my kitchen table and my tooth breaks. In half. I go to bite down like the oblivious doof I was/am/will probably always be, and I just feel it crack. I knew right away what I’d done. What I didn’t expect was that it didn’t hurt, because I had not realized what they’d had to do to get down into my gums through my tooth to clean out... whatever you call the infectious shit that was going on down there. I’m not a dentist, stop judging me. What I also did not realize yet was a problem was WHERE it had broken off.
You see, when they go to put a crown on a tooth, they need to have a certain amount of the tooth remaining so that they can anchor it properly, and so that they can shape and polish the base of the tooth accordingly. My tooth had broken basically right next to the gum line. It could not just be glued back in place, and the dentist could not just fit me into another time slot to make up our earlier appointment. I now needed a periodontist.
I needed a gum doctor.
To this day I don't know what makes someone decide they want to devote their lives to be one, but a periodontist is the one that specializes in the diagnosis, treatment, and hopefully prevention of periodontal (gums and the bone supporting teeth) disease. They are responsible for, among other things, shaping and reforming gums when necessary, which my particular break had now made necessary. Lucky me. I learned later that periodontists also deal a lot with dental implants, and this makes me somewhat fear ever letting myself get to the point that I find out I need them and have to visit another perio at their place of work.
So I schedule the time with the perio and get my tooth temporarily fixed. And it breaks a few days later that week and I have to go back. And then it breaks again, at another wedding no less, a few days after that, before the appointment. So that part wasn't even the least bit embarrassing. Totally hilarious for everyone involved, especially me. Except it was awful, and everyone that saw it felt really bad for me. One friend of mine in particular was so worried she was going to laugh at it, she essentially avoided me for the majority of a day that everyone was over at her house celebrating. I'll spare her the mention in case she would prefer I don't bring her up by name, but you know who you are.
Finally, mercifully, I make it to the appointment. I'll spare you the exact details of the experience, and suffice it to say three things about the visit that tell you what you need to know about it.
1. To reiterate, they trimmed my gums back far enough to get to the remaining piece of tooth. This took a considerable amount of anesthetic and I was on a large amount of aspirin for a week afterwards in lieu of painkillers.
2. At one point, I felt the periodontist make a cut that sprayed my own blood forcefully against the roof of my mouth. I wasn't in actual pain when this happened, but was very aware that this occurred. I also was aware that even he and his assistant got wide-eyed for almost a minute straight before calming down and continuing.
3. I lost concept of time while he was working, but had the distinct feeling that I was going to die in that chair. I got a strong vibe of a scene from A Clockwork Orange. And I'm not saying that periodontists must be sadistic by nature to do that job, but given what I sat through, how can I rule it out? So as I left, I made the joke-but-not-really comment that he said he hears all the time, "I hope to god that I never see you again."
But again, pretty nice guy when we're just sitting and talking. Tried really hard to be encouraging, and was very open to me calling for follow up questions.
(I got a question, how many people have you kidnapped from a European hostel and murdered psychotically?)
In any case, I got through this appointment and could go back to my dentist to get the true crown put on. After this occurred, I got the final bill for what all had been done and I gotta say, I wasn't amused. As expensive as it is to have good teeth, it's crazy how much more it can cost to have bad ones. It actually made the most lasting impression in this case, because I had to work out a payment plan for the remaining balance after my insurance bowed out. It wasn't insurmountable, of course, but it wasn't the kind of bill I had in my side pocket to handle like that.
And again, basically this entire time, every professional in the dental industry that meets with me gives me a very sympathetic, soft spoken reception, trying to very politely and respectfully give me pointers to make gradual improvements so that my feelings aren't hurt and I'll give them a favorable review on whatever god damn referral service they use. Every one of them took the Dimetapp approach. Not one of them said something along the lines of what I probably needed to hear:
- Vic, your teeth look like shit. You need to get regular cleanings. You need to brush and floss regularly. You need to stop eating these sugary, acidic foods that are bad for several other parts of your body.
- Your insurance is garbage, so even for the things that weren't totally your own doing, you were always going to be screwed. Saving the 12-17 extra bucks a month that you blow on chicken wings will be better used at ensuring that you have a larger cushion to take care of this shit, so stop being a fucking idiot about this.
- If you don't want to be fitted for dentures by age 45, you'll make some changes right the hell now. It doesn't matter to us, because we get paid more to fix this train wreck than we do to give you advice that you kind of already knew. This is your responsibility, no one else should have to tell you this. Remove your head out of your ass a-s-a-f-p.
Now, I'm not hear to tell you that every problem out there requires the hard, unfiltered, almost-kinda-assholish version. But some situations very much do call for it. There are times that it should be apparent that someone in your life (maybe even yourself) is not getting the message about something in the medium or intensity that it is being sent to them. In those situations, I ask you, is it really worth it to continue trying in a way that has proven ineffective? Maybe you need to up the dosage, or maybe you should try a different prescription. When the Dimetapp isn't doing the trick, consider the Robitussin.
And also keep in mind, both Dimetapp and Robitussin may be the wrong treatment. Chris Rock knows.
Later.
