A stabby week.

It’s been two days since my dental work, and I’ve been following the aftercare instructions, which advise against smoking. Instead, I’ve been enjoying an evening highs fuelled by cannabis beverages. It gives me the best kind of high but at a higher cost.

I have stitches halfway down the middle of the roof of my mouth. After pushing it deeper, the dentist did a bone graft to reinforce the implant.

Before I got the implant, I asked a friend who I knew had them how the procedure went for them. What they said was reassuring, if not vague (given their implant happened over 20 years ago).

To anyone who has stumbled upon this post and wants to know how much it sucks to get dental implants:

Continue reading “A stabby week.”

White tooth supremacy.

Other possible titles were:

  • My bedroom smells Gucci
  • The time Laura picked up a 1,500-page book without realizing it
  • Spring?
  • Billy and the Clonesaurus

Meet Ol’ Chomper:

Ol’ Chomper is my newest flipper, which means I went from being three teeth down to just one. Two of my crowns were installed last Thursday. The third is three months away, as the dentist wants to re-do the middle implant. This means you guys are going to have to deal with more posts about the status of my mouth for the next bit. Ol’ Chomper is a shade whiter than the rest of my teeth, hence the post title.

Continue reading “White tooth supremacy.”

Hot Tie.

The cost wasn’t a barrier to getting on a seaplane to Vancouver, but an expired photo ID nearly held me back. I assume one needs to update their main piece of ID every five years so they don’t age out of their photo. Although now two years past expiry, my ID is still two years newer than my passport.

Cursory online research says it’s how one stays enrolled in the Medical Services Plan. However, it was not a problem when I ended up in the hospital last June. I’ve also had several doctor’s appointments since it expired, so I can only imagine I’m still enrolled in the Medical Services Plan. I don’t want to update my ID for three good reasons: it costs money, it takes time, and my photo is weirdly gorgeous.

That may be why the Harbour Air service agent made a small fuss. I pulled out my other IDs, including my recreation centre pass, to appease her. To my relief, the neighbouring agent took my side and ushered the first agent to print my boarding ticket.

Continue reading “Hot Tie.”