I Have A Cavity

Actually, I have two. Well, the supervisor dentist says one for sure, and one possibly. So in other words, two.

Cavities? Really, cavities? Isn't that something only kids get? I remember getting tons of them when I was young and didn't know the consequences of getting them, all the bad memories of getting silver and then plastic injected into the tops of my molars for the rest of my life. Father and Mother always yelled at me to brush my teeth, but I didn't listen till I was well older. I was clean, cavity-free ... until today.

I really thought I could cheat this, I really, really, rilly thought I could. I had gone, what, nine months between cleanings at my old, expensive place that won't take my new insurance. Maybe it was a year. Anyway, what's another 18 months ... or two years? I brush regularly ... enough. I floss more than I have in the past ... a little. I've started rinsing more ... a tad. But now I have cavities?

It's not the pop, nor the coffee. It's the fact that I didn't come in for a checkup in some time. If I came in earlier, they could've cleaned up all that plaque and calicification and shit. Then I could continue my acid-guzzling ways and not worry because it'll be cleaned up in 6 or 9 or 12 months. I thought I could it put off going to the dentist for a while. But I was wrong.

The thing that disgusts me now is, Why did I wait so fucking long? What was I doing all this time? And I'm thinking: OK, I ended my old insurance in late 2008 ... was rejected the first time I applied with the state, so I waited ... after the grace period I applied again and got accepted, in June or so ... geez, I had USC and Vikings committments in the fall, but it's not as if I was busy at all. Why the hell didn't I prevent all this in 2009? I don't have an excuse like work that prevents me to get to other chores like this; I have all the time in the world. Well ... maybe it's because I have so little going for me that I forget to do even the most menial self-maintenance tasks. You see, if I were working, I'd be on the ball, and then I'd remember to get a checkup -- and I wouldn't have to worry about switching insurance and thus waiting. Well, maybe that would be the case.

Oh, who am I kidding? The bottom line is, I fucked up. This was entirely preventable. I ignored it thinking it was no big deal. Right now my mood is No Big Deal. But it is, and it should be. And this isn't like going back to school: 1) I'm not spending thousands of dollars on a dental checkup; and 2) there's nothing not to like about a cleaning. Sure, it's a pain to schedule and go and sit there and open your mouth wide and spit and shit, but it's nothing like going to class two times a week towards something you may or may not use. Bottom line: My teeth were going to get clean. It may be overkill at 6 months, but I took it way too far, so now what do I have? Something only kids get. Fuck me.

(Oh, I have to add one thing: The cute girl who checked my teeth today did the same strange thing the last woman to check my teeth did: She asked me about my hygiene habits. Only this one was a tad more scrutinizing and condescending about it: "Maybe cutting down to one pop a day would be a good start?" And the phrase that bugged me the worst: "What are we going to do then?" We? We??? Look, you can do this however the fuck you like. I may do this, or I may not do this and say to you I did. But we? Us? What are you, my kindergarten teacher?)

So what did I do after I heard this devastating news? I went to my car and finished the KFC/A&W root beer I left there before walking to the clinic. And then I went to this coffeeshop for a mocha, even though I wasn't thirsty or cold. Why? What does it fucking matter now? I have holes in my teeth. I wanted them saved, but now they're fucked and it's my fault. I gambled and I was wrong, so there's no use to start being good now.