I went to the dentist and wound up on an embarrassing episode of the bachelorette
I would like you all to be the first to know I survived yesterday's dentist appointment.
Also, I'm mildly in love with my dentist. Excuse me, dentist's office, but it so does not hurt that the dentist and hygienist look exactly like two men from the last season of The Bachelorette. I thought my last visit was a fluke, but no. It's still amazing. I saw a different hygienist and dentist this time, and still amazing (as explained above). The hygienist led me to my chair and apologized profusely that my personal flat screen tv is out of order, so I won't be able to channel surf during my visit today. The walls were still slightly whirling from my vertigo, so watching moving images on a screen didn't sound appealing anyway, especially considering the fact that I got a bad wave of dizziness after watching three cars drive past me.
While he went to get the dentist, I surveyed my surroundings. In front of me was a giant 1930s art-deco radio the size of my dresser that I'm trying to figure out how to smuggle out of there, complete with a Certificate of Authenticity framed above it and a model plane on top. Also framed above it? One of the dentist's diplomas, as well as several pictures of WWII. World War II! You know how much I love any and everything from WWII. And you know what else was displayed with the radio, diplomas, and war graphics? A framed two dollar bill. Naturally. Off in the corner I noticed a small china cabinet full of toy tractors? Model tractors? Whatever they were, they were small grey and red models of 1920s tractors. After everything else in the room, I was no longer surprised. I just nodded my approval and responded to the hygienist when he asked me what I think about Red Lobster, clearly hoping I would help him prove some point to the dentist, who he was teasing.
"They have great biscuits!" I said, much too enthusiastically for someone unsure of what's going on in a dentist's office full of WWII memorabilia and an homage to 1920s farming. Also too enthusiastically for someone who hasn't even thought about Red Lobster in about 10 years.
"See, she gets it! No one goes there for anything other the biscuits!" We shared a laugh in solidarity with each other while the dentist mumbled something about popcorn shrimp. I momentarily wondered if this was how it felt to be JoJo on a group date.
My teeth were perfect and I passed with flying colors. I was shocked. After the past few weeks, I expected to have all but three teeth pulled and at least one root canal. The dentist walked me to the receptionist to check out, and we bonded over our favorite restaurant (not Red Lobster), and I almost invited him to lunch with my mom and me afterwards. I clarified with the receptionist that my insurance had not changed, remembering that James had handed me my dental card and told me to make sure to hand it to them. But I had been there before, so surely that wasn't necessary. I'm a grown woman and I know what I'm doing.
"Ok, then you owe $150 today." Still with a slight brain fog from this monster virus, I handed her my card with a confused scowl and no follow-up questions. On the way I home, I got a text from James asking why it was so expensive. I told him I had no idea, that we just must have bad insurance. Sucks, but what can we do? #thanksObama
"But we have new insurance, so it should be covered."
"That's why I gave you the card."
"I didn't give it to them! Is that why you wanted to me to give it to them?"
And suddenly it all became so clear. I panicked. What's worse: making a u-turn and walking back in, head hanging in shame? Or pulling over to...gasp...make a phone call? I chose phone call, only so they couldn't see my facial expressions which I can never seem to control in situations like these.
I called and explained my situation and gave the new insurance information. After a fiasco of figuring out which one of us is the policyholder, I was refunded my $150 and got off the phone. I drove home, hoping they would forget about my ignorance over the next 6 months, and then realized I had no idea where I was. The dentist is 10 minutes from my house and in an area I'm very familiar with, yet I had managed to get myself lost to the point that I had to pull up the map on my GPS. I'm still not sure what went wrong, but I suspect it was due to the part of my brain that handles insurance information.
After putting Gracie to bed last night, mom and I settled down for a night of riveting television. By that I mean we watched Jeopardy, Wheel of Fortune, and The Andy Griffith Show. Wheel of Fortune is my game, and I take great pride in often solving the puzzles before the contestants. However, the brain fog had yet to burn off, because I was off my game more than ever.
The puzzle was supposed to read "POSTCARDS FROM A FARAWAY LAND," and the only missing letters were the P and C in postcards. I nearly jumped from the couch and screamed "LOSTTARDS FROM A FARAWAY LAND!!!!" absolutely convinced I had figured it out. Maybe it's a good thing the personal tv at the dentist wasn't working.
I have no idea what a losttard is, but it's certainly how I felt when I got lost two miles from home.