Here's the thing, I am supposed to be editing Charlotte Figg Takes Over Paradise and/or writing Griselda Takes Flight but I wanted to talk about oral surgery, seeing how it is so fresh on my mind. My husband was supposed to take me Monday evening but he got stuck on a job. Now the old Joyce would have seized this opportunity and cancelled the appointment but, and you'll be so proud of me, I called my dear sweet friend Rebecca and without a moment's hesitation she said, "Sure, I'll be right there." What a pal! So she arrived a few minutes later and off we went. I was freaking out about the appointment and immediately instructed Rebecca on what to do in the event of my dental-induced death. She agreed to destroy my computer and journals and to take custody of my original Smurf art cell.
We arrived, on time and I entered the building—dead woman walking style. Luckily there was a very nice couple there waiting and they cheered me, the reception ladies were kind and happy and reassuring and yet I felt my heart beating like a big brass drum and my toes curled in my Chucks. A few minutes later, Maria, the surgical assistant came out and said, "I just need four minutes to get the room ready." Yikes. I still had time, the door was right there, I could scram! Run, Joyce! Run!
Fortunately, I think Rebecca would have tackled me if I tried to escape.
And so the march began. Maria came and got me and after a quick hug with her last patient I went down the hall and into a small room. For some reason my mind flashed on the Bugs Bunny episode when he floated into the Mad Scientist's lab and the Mad Scientist wanted to put Bug's brain into a big, orange hairy monster. That didn't happen. I took the chair and met the nicest, kindest most awesome oral surgeon on planet earth—Dr. Bianchi. He explained the procedure, patted my hand and smiled. "How long will this take?" I asked. "Eight minutes," he said. "Really?" I said. "Okay," Dr. Bianchi said, "seven minutes."
No kidding folks, I was numb and out of there in seven minutes. He was incredible. I'm a little sore today and I still haven't eaten any real food—couple of milkshakes and some mashed potatoes. But I'm on the mend. So, here's the thing, anticipation. That's the real enemy folks. Anticipation is what gets to you. It's no good, it just makes you expect the worst and get all that adrenaline coursing through your body for no good reason because most of the time the things we fear never come near.