I Hate The Dentist And Nitrous Oxide Does Crap

Whoever said nitrous oxide, laughing gas, is fun, a legal high and you don’t feel the pain is a big fat liar.  It doesn’t really help and if you are terrified of the dentist to begin with and he’s coming at you with that horrifying noisy drill, slowly breathing through your nose is the last thing on your mind. In fact, I tense up and I forget to breathe altogether.

English: Medical grade Nitrous Oxide tanks used in dentistry. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I hate going to the dentist and needing a cavity filled was a traumatic event for me. Even a cleaning is horrible but last month’s filling was downright dreadful. Of course, I haven’t needed a cavity filled for at least thirty years and I am planning not to have one ever again. I am not vain, I swear I’d rather have dentures even though I don’t need them.

How could anyone be a dentist or married to a dentist. I know you can say the same thing about surgeons, even doctors but for a person with a phobia about dentistry, it seems stupefying.

I actually like the three dentists in the office, I really do. However, their office staff at the front desk are horrendous. One is an overly affected woman, from France or Greece who walks around with two sticks up her ass, never smiles and is downright rude. It’s hard not to take it personally until you have been there for a while and notice she’s nasty to everyone. Why do they keep her? No one knows. She is not, in the least bit, friendly (friendly is a gross exaggeration) she is not even polite. I happen to know they get a lot of complaints about her.

The second front desk person is like a little troll.  She’s the one who happened to do something illegal while I was there but I’m not telling. If she was friendly I could have let it go but she is as nasty as the other one except she has more of a street smart attitude. Gum-chewing, short, dyed hair, clicking her gum as if we were in junior high school, you have probably seen her in the background of the movie West Side Story;  and she seems ready to rumble. I have never seen her smile or be welcoming or polite to anyone there either. Broke the law, nbd.

The third receptionist who is barely tolerable is a guy who sits behind his computer scowling, doesn’t talk to anyone and pushes numbers into the computer, a data entry job which is fine. He doesn’t have to “welcome people with respect and compassion in HIS job description.” Maybe the other two women don’t either?

It’s like the inmates are running the asylum and I’m not quite sure I’m comfortable with that. The dentists are kind but are they incredibly clueless about how to manage an office? I dare say with this economy I’m sure there are thousands of men and women that would be not only competent to do this job but friendly and warm too.

There are two questions: 1) Should customer service/care be part of your decision-making process when hiring a doctor?

2) It’s 2014: Can’t they come up with ANYTHING to mask the sound of the dreaded drill? Headphones maybe?

Your thoughts?

 

It’s Not Just Peanut Butter And Jelly Anymore (Food Cop)

I’m hungry, borderline starving. I know that’s a fairly regular experience for me but tonight I am ravenous AND I have to be careful ABOUT the texture of what I eat.

 

I’m having a flare-up of everything that could possibly hurt, especially now with my jaw, teeth, head and neck.

Having a vicious battle with TMJ  AND a cavity that needs to be filled, I thought I would be cautious and eat soft food. Since I was not feeling well, all day, light-headed, dizzy (reason still to be determined with the dreaded TILT test) my husband was kind enough to bring me a peanut butter and jelly (extra orange marmalade on the side to be mixed in) sandwich. For a side dish there was a tiny amount of mashed potatoes, leftovers from last night yummy restaurant. Oh yes, there was sour cream and butter in those “mashlers” as my dad used to say and as part of my family still says.

The amount of peanut butter and jelly is crucial to any perfect sandwich, bearing in mind everybody’s personal preference. For me, more jelly and less peanut butter is the way to go. My husband and our friend John in the neighborhood, put staggering amounts of peanut butter on their sandwiches (“There IS NO such thing as too much peanut butter in our house”) John said. My husband, agrees. He slathers on peanut butter and measures it in inches. I disagree. I’m a more jelly than peanut butter kind of girl.

I was having a bite of mashed potatoes, on the side, following a bite of my sandwich (the color of the jelly and the taste is carefully matched too) when I noticed a wonderful, soothing, comfort spreading taste in my mouth and stomach. After two or three bites of the sandwich and then the mashed potatoes I was sure that a combination sandwich would definitely ease my pain.

Wait for it, my friend, Maureen, because you KNOW it’s coming….

Hence, the peanut butter and jelly and mashed potato sandwich was born. Don’t prejudge, it is the ultimate in comfort food. The peanut butter and jelly or jam is cold or at room temperature and the hot mashed potatoes, sans gravy, are warm, buttery and rich.

It was love at first bite. I finished every creamy morsel and would have eaten more if I had more to eat. I have had in the past peanut butter and jelly with cheddar cheese and once I had a peanut butter and jelly combined with tuna fish sandwich but those are a little too much and way less comforting than my new, favorite combination.

Mashed Potatoes!!! (Photo credit: Manuel Alarcón)

It’s a win-win situation. How could it not be fabulous? The greatest in comfort food.

Sure, I make a mean chicken soup, or lentil soup, those are all   eaten mostly in the Winter. But this new combination?  Adding mashed potatoes as an ingredient? A genius idea of comfort in a bite. In every single bite.

 

I Blew It, Easter Bunny

Cadbury eggs, a common Easter candy. One is broken to show the yellow-orange interior that simulates egg yolk. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Cadbury Mini Eggs (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I know it’s not Easter but tell that to the supermarkets and the drugstores all around town. I can’t resist buying the chocolate when I see it. (It’s not MY fault that I like to prepare early.) The only problem is that when they are in my house, SOMEBODY eats them. Oh fine, I CONFESS, it’s me. After that I need to replenish… It’s a bit of a problem that I’ve had for the last ten years (20?) Who am I to deny anyone. especially myself, their own happiness? Those Cadbury creme filled eggs, yup, I have to say I ate those. My God, their gooey, sweet swirl, white with a candy yoke just thrills me after I bite the milk chocolate exterior. That is a chocolate dream that satisfies every sweet craving I have and I think it is comparable to anything served in a fine dining establishment. It is the quintessential dessert and it is a guaranteed delight; you know you will get a sugar high after one of these sweet, creamy babies. I’m salivating. I think I hid one more and I just have to find it. I know, I know, that this was bad but it didn’t stop there. I finished the bag of candy covered chocolate eggs while watching television,  I popped one mini egg into my mouth right after the other until the bag was (mysteriously) empty. Those sweet morsels just go down your throat with no effort at all. The problem is I didn’t feel guilty if at all. Any nano second of remorse was overshadowed by the sheer joy and milky chocolate bliss that lingered on the sides of my mouth and my tongue. (Am I the only one in the world who refuses to brush their teeth on occasions like these so the taste can linger? Please don’t tell my dentist. Cadbury, I do love you and respect you as a company (and no I am not getting paid for this), I just love what I love. Thank you for bringing us this familiar joy every single year. PS: Yellow chick Peeps, don’t be jealous, I have written about you several times before. It’s Cadbury’s turn.