So Monday, I got another installment in the Neverending Dental Adventure. Part 3 of 4 in the gum scraping treatments. Believe it or not, I’m going to miss Theresa, my hygienist, when this is finished. She’s nice and apparently she cares about my teeth more than I ever did in my previous 41 years.
I’m being a good boy now, brushing and flossing. Hell, I even started brushing between my teeth with these little bottle brush thingies that go in between your teeth. And did you know they make toothpastes for morning AND night? I’m not making this shit up.
She mentioned Crest Pro Health toothpaste and, let’s face it. I’m doing pretty much whatever she says because she knows what the hell she’s doing. So now I have morning toothpaste and night toothpaste, though for the life of me, I don’t see much of a difference in the ingredients listing.
My entire night time routine is getting out of hand. All this fucking health shit takes a lot of time. First I check my blood sugar, then I give myself my insulin. Then I take my bedtime pills. Then I go into the bathroom and floss. Then I brush my teeth. Then I brush BETWEEN my teeth. Then I rinse with this gum and tooth tonic stuff. Then I’m allowed to go to bed, y’know, 37 hours later.
Anyway, so Monday was also the day I went back to the V.A. in St. Pete (hi, Faiqa’s brother!) for my follow-up chest x-ray. Remember, the last x-ray was inconclusive with a little 8mm “spot” on my left lung…which may have been my nipple getting in the way.
This time they put nipple markers on me, which are basically tiny BB’s on the back of a circular sticker you place on your nipples. I guess that way the x-ray machine can distinguish between your nipple and 8mm spots. And let me tell you, they hurt like a bitch coming off, too. You know, if you’ve got hair on your chest like me. And Italian women.
Shut up, I’m Italian. I had an aunt with a heavier mustache than I could ever grow.
They let me look at the x-rays, which was pretty cool. It’s all computerized nowadays. Instantly shows up on the screen, no developing necessary. Course, I had no idea what I was looking at. The picture was all x-rayey.
“Yep, those are my lungs,” I said. Course, the doctor gets the really GOOD monitor with the ultra-high-res images that can zoom in and look at nipple markers and 8mm spots. I just saw two dark masses and hoped the dark part was normal and not smoking-related.
Now, it’s the waiting game. Again. I’m sure in a few days or so, I’ll get another call from the local clinic receptionist, saying that the doctor wants me to come in to discuss my MRI results. Even though I never had an MRI. And I’ll have to wait another week for her to tell me the results and ask me about my eternity and all that shit.
And I’ll say, “Look, if you’re going to ask me such personal questions, you could at least show me your tits.”