So over the weekend, Mama and I kept revisiting the whole “Special Dentist Issue”. And not having dental insurance, and with assurances that I could have plenty of novocaine and Valium, I was trying to be a grownup and NOT have the IV sedation that I so desperately
wanted needed. Because in the long run, I really wanted a few bottles of Insignia and maybe a bottle of Backus in June, instead of paying the anesthesiologist. (Never let it be said that I am not a fan of delayed gratification–we have been known to hold on to Backus for 15, 16 whole years. So, that bottle I would have bought in June wouldn’t be opened until nearly 2030.) (No, I can’t think about that fact, either. Let’s just not. And we’ll pretend that we’re still as young in 2030 as when we bought the bottle.)
But Mama wisely pointed out that this is serious surgery that will be happening, and it will basically involve me standing on my head (though I’ll be in that little chair thing, I’ll be leaned all the way back into a Cirque du Soleil-esque position) while they use the microscopes and the tears of blind nuns to heal my rogue teeth. And she gently reminded me that I am a
neurotic nervous patient even for just routine stuff. And that though we are paying the Special Dentist to incur the business risk of operating on the back teeth of nervous folk, he still might really appreciate not being bitten by a neurotic patient with trust issues. So I put the bottles of Insignia back on the mental shelf and called them yesterday to ask for the IV sedation.
But all is not gloom-in the hour of my (Insignia) loss, the Special Dentist had to reschedule my root canal to coincide with the anesthesiologist’s schedule, too! So I have a week or so reprieve from dental anguish. Which frankly is awesome news. (See? I’m all ABOUT delaying things!)
Anyway-the other news around here is that we now have at least three of the baby zebra running around. We didn’t see them Sunday or yesterday, but they were right beside our house on Saturday. Apparently now the revised number expected is six. We are concerned now about startling the herd and risking them starting to run and trampling a baby zebra who is less sure-footed. So I’m not stalking them and taking lots of pictures until they get a bit bigger and better able to hold their own. Besides, you’ve seen one stripe-y horse? You’ve seen them all.
Unless one decides to be born with plaid. Then I’ll be sure to document it for you.