The bad news is, that lighting is pitch black darkness.
No, seriously.
No, seriously, it is not quite that bad.
I am just one of those patients that should always be unconscious for surgeries. There should be a sticker on my forehead. Or at least in my 15 lb dental record folder. "Please knock this girl out before you attempt to screw things into her bones. This is not for the patient’s benefit, but for yours."
My surgery lasted 30 minutes. Or more. Or less. It was tough to tell. I can say that I did not open my eyes once. Hearing what was happening was bad enough. The dentist only had to tell me to calm down twice though, so that was good. And I only wanted to bite him three times, so again, something to be proud of.
No, seriously, he did a good job. He did. Most people would be unable to work in the amount of tears that were raining down on their hands. Yes, he rocked. Thank you.
But then, I get into the car and drive with Paul (babe, I love you. You are a saint.) to my gum doctor. The one who is in charge of making sure I look smokin’ hot at the end of this.
And I sit down in the chair and he comes in:
Doctor: Smile, let me see.
(Elise smiles)
Doctor: Oh, no, you are not happy with this, I bet.
Elise (tears starting to fall): I haven’t looked yet.
Doctor: Good. Don’t.
Elise (more tears).
Doctor: Well, we have made you look okay so far, this is going to be the not so pretty period.
And with that, we have entered what I shall call, "The Claude Monet Era." From a distance, everything looks fine.
Five more weeks, kids. Let’s hope it flies.
enJOY it 
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