Willis Resurfaced

Oh my. More than a whole year has gone by and I've kept it all to myself. Shame on me. It looks like I owe you guys a detailed recap. There's so much to bring you up to speed on...

I think we left off with Baby Wolfgang. Can you believe it? That little shit is a year old now. In fact, we just went to his first birthday party last weekend. He already weighs 25 lbs. Charlene isn't surprised. She said, "No wonder he's so big with the bad eating habits your brother and Tootie are already teaching him." 

Charlene was referring to Christmas dinner at my parent's house where the proud parents fed Wolfgang baby-bite-size pieces of prime rib. She was also referring to the "smash cake" they let him smash, eat, wear, and decorate the floor and walls with at his birthday party. "Can you believe they let him have that whole Cake?" Charlene uttered in disgust on our way home from the party. "He's going to end up looking like your brother and Tootie!"

My brother and Tootie aren't exactly the poster people for Abercrombie and Finch. All of their favorite activities involve sitting. For example, they like to eat, drink, watch tv, play video games... and I think that's it. They way I look at it, though, is that's what they like to do -- so who cares? And, if they want to feed Baby Wolfgang prime rib and smash cake, then so be it! Not my problem.

In case you were wondering, Charlene and I did continue the Christmas tradition we started last year. Charlene relented, but yes. We went back to Wawa -- except this time, my favorite, the "Gobbler" turkey sandwich, wasn't on the menu. I had to settle for a prime rib sandwich instead. Charlene also switched it up. She chose the quesadillas instead of pancakes-in-a-bowl.

I hate to admit it, but I'm not sure this tradition is going to carry over to next year. The prime rib sandwich just didn't do it for me. In fact, it kind of almost ruined my family Christmas dinner. I was so tired after eating that greasy thing that I could swear they cooked the meat in Nyquil. Fortunately, the excitement of opening Christmas gifts helped me to snap out of it.

Another new development is that I quit drinking soda. Yup. Hooray for me. I dropped it cold turkey back in September. It was actually my New Year's resolution in 2011. It just took a while for it to kick in.

My soda habit was way out of hand, but the real wake-up call was the head splitting toothache that simultaneously led to half of one root canal and one tooth extraction that, combined, cost over $3,000.

I am deathly afraid of the dentist, so, as you can imagine, I felt a great sense of relief when I saw a dental office in the yellow pages by the name of "The Apprehensive Patient". I knew immediately that that was the place for me.

I remember sitting in the waiting room on my first visit - palms sweaty, short of breath, my heart beating out of my chest. I wanted so bad to bolt out the front door and never come back. But, the pain... the pain needed to be dealt with. And, what was I afraid of? I was at the "Apprehensive Patient" after all. Their logo was a frightened monkey in a dentist chair. It had to be a happy place.

The dental assistant called me into the torture chamber within in the first 10 minutes of me being there. I decided to face fear with humor like I often do and told the dental assistant,
"You do realize that the picture outside of the scared monkey is really me?"

She gave me polite smile and said, "I'm sorry to tell you, but 90% of our patients claim to be that monkey."

"Does that mean I don't get the employee discount?" I kindly asked.

"I suppose it does," she replied as she directed me to have a seat in the chair of pain. That's when I got really scared...

After she adjusted my chair to make me more "comfortable", the dental assistant said, "the dentist will be in shortly," and just up and left me to my own devices. I couldn't believe how archaic this place was. They didn't even have a tv to distract me from my own horrific thoughts. I mean, all I could think about was that thick, foot-long needle they were going to stab into my gums. And, just at the height of my self-generated panic, in walked one of the most beautiful women I'd ever ever seen (besides Charlene, of course) who introduced herself as the dental surgeon.

All of the sudden I was acting all macho telling her ridiculous things like, "Give me the biggest needle you have," and "You know what? I don't even need Novacaine...".

Now, I don't think I told you this, but I made the appointment with the dentist with the full intention to have the tooth (my back right molar) that hurt so bad for so long that it made me want to kill myself removed. No root canals; no implants; no stem cell clonings of my old tooth. No. I was getting it pulled.

The dental surgeon was so stunning that I was embarrassed to let her see the inside of my mouth. I was a reckless soda drinker for most of my life and there were some nasty things going on toward the back of my mouth that I was ashamed for her to see. But, at the same time, when she told me she wanted to take a look inside my mouth, I just couldn't refuse her.

"I see a lot of decay back there," she pointed out. She then pressed on the tooth next to the tooth that hurt me and asked, "Is this where the pain is coming from?"

"No. It's coming from the one right next to it," I explained.

"Are you sure?" she kindly questioned.

Was I sure? Wait. Was I?  I thought I was. But, I felt a sudden wave of uncertainty about the root of my pain -- even though I'd been feeling it for weeks. That's how dangerously under her spell I was at the time.

"Hmmm... Maybe the pain IS coming from that tooth. I'm not sure," I diffidently replied.

"I believe it is," she stated. 

She directed me to close my mouth and said, "The bad news is both of those teeth are blown out. The good news is I think we can save them. Now I know you came in for an extraction -- and I can do that, but you're such a young guy. I would hate to see you lose your teeth knowing we can save them."

I knew immediately she was suggesting a root canal -- Errrrg... I mean two root canals!

Still deeply under her spell (and despite the cost, the time, the fear, and the pain), I enthusiastically cheered, "Yeah, let's do it!"

She wrote me a prescription for some Amoxicillin and made my first appointment for the following week.