Well…I have to tell you that I am not the same person I used to be. There is something new and different about me. I have changed. On Monday I had oral surgery to remove a tooth that was damaged by a quack-ass dentist in Lansing over 5 years ago. Long story short: he messed up, my tooth got infected and it had to be pulled. Now I am a hick northerner because I have a gap where there should be a tooth and there isn’t. My dentist says the area has to completely heal before they can move on to phase two: an implant. Ha! I’m getting an implant…not a silicone death-bag, though. A tooth.
Anyway, that’s not really what makes me different. I mean, sure, I feel like white trash what with one of my teeth missing and all (at least it’s in the back where you can’t see it!) but there’s more to my story. I now have dead-person tissue residing in my body. That’s right – I had to have a bone graft of cadaver bone. Crazy, eh? I’m thinking that from now on I can blame the dead person’s tissue for wanting to eat all the junk food. It’s a great alibi. “It isn’t my fault…the cadaver part of my mouth really WANTED an ice cream cone. I can’t control it. It’s like that pseudo-horror movie Idol Hands…at least I think…I’ve never actually seen that movie.” I suppose I am just another person out there, living proof of how important it is to donate your organs…where would I be without my dead person’s bone in my jaw, I ask you? I don’t bet many people think of that when they decide to donate their organs. And do you know how much it cost? Over $600! I bet the dead person didn’t see a dime of that money. What a cash cow!
In other death-related news, last Thursday I drove down to TC so Sam and I could go to the Junior Royale Parade at the Cherry Festival. On the way down I hit two birds at one time with my car. Apparently they were too busy doing that whole mating/flirting in mid-air kind of wild and crazy flying when their ecstasy was suddenly interrupted by the grill of my car. Luckily, it didn’t leave a mark. I think that might be a quintessential example of Darwinism at work. Stupid birds who get hit by a car while making sweet love obviously should not pass on their genes to future generations.
This reminds me of one winter several years ago when I was finishing my degree. I was driving home one weekend when some big blackish brownish flying something went WHAM right into the front of my car. I didn’t think much of it…debris or maybe a bird or something. Then I got home to find a massive hole in the grill of the car. Massive as in about 10” across. I showed Owen who wasn’t happy but, hey, this is Northern Michigan…it happens. A couple of days later, when he was looking at it, he noticed that the dead thing was still in there! (It was winter…couldn’t smell rotting flesh what with it being fricking freezing.) He pulled it out and can you guess what it was? An owl…who kills an owl in a hit-and-run? I mean, really…
Back to the topic of my tooth…I would like to recommend that everybody who is going in for an extraction should ask for 4 mg of Ativan ahead of time. Let me just say that I do not remember much of Monday at all. In fact, yesterday I noticed that my thumb nail was painted and I had no recollection of painting it. Apparently, Owen wasn’t watching me very closely and I painted it at the drug store while waiting for my prescription to be filled. I guess I told him that it was okay, and that they wouldn’t mind. I’m a little bummed, though, because as it turns out, I like the color a lot and I have no idea where/how to find it again.