Teeth & Beauty Products

I was at Cinema Secrets yesterday at lunch picking up some mousse for my husband, conditioner for myself and a bottle of makeup brush cleaner after overhearing the sales girl pitching it to an eager buyer.

I was standing at the register grappling with my debit card when a piece of folded up paper appeared in the center portion of my tri-fold pink camoflauge wallet. I opened it without a thought and "clack clack" something fell out of it and onto the floor.

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November 4 of last year.
Darrin worked hard and long on Chicken Little, and we flew out to Nebraska so that we could watch it with his folks on opening day, then again with the rest of his friends and family the following day. Nobody is in show business in Nebraska. NOBODY. And nobody knows anyone who is involved in show business so I mean to tell you Darrin was a local celebrity, and I was a lucky Hollywood Wife. Darrin was on the radio, spoke at his elementary school, talked to the kids at the YMCA, was featured on the evening news (right after the turkey hunting report) and was on the front page of the newspaper. I kid you not, the man was a king.

My wonderful parents-in-law took us to the local theater where the movie was playing. My mother-in-law was fit to be tied because of the two theaters in Kearney Nebraska, Chicken Little was playing at "the crappy one."

The sound was waaaay low. I mean low to the point of being afraid to laugh at jokes because you'd miss the next line of dialogue, and the sound effects weren't as effective either as a result. Darrin suggested to the proprieter that he turn the volume up the following evening because we would be selling the theater out; and Darrin's Grandpa Gene is extremely hard of hearing. "Just have him turn up his hearing aid" was the old fart's response.

So we're sitting and waiting for the film to start. I'm so happy for Darrin; and his folks are positively fluffed up with pride for their bigtime son the animator. His Dad springs for a huge tub of popcorn to tide us over until we can get to the Red Lobster after the movie, and we chit chat about the fun events still to come. I take a nice sized handful of buttery goodness and as I'm chewing - UH OH. Something's wrong. Have I bitten down on a granny seed? What is this in my mouth now? Why do I feel a sharp cutting sensation on the back part of my left cheek? It all adds up to something horrifying - and right before the opening credits.

I turn to my family who are all smiles and leaning back in their old timey theater seats enjoying a behind the scenes movie story from Darrin. "Something really bad just happened." I say with my hand in front of my mouth. They turn their collective gaze toward me "What?"
"A big piece of my tooth just cracked off in my mouth."

Not to worry! My tiny mother-in-law has a solution. She figures if Darrin agrees to draw pictures and sign autographs for her dentist's kids, then surely she will come in tomorrow morning (a Saturday mind you) to fix her daughter-in-law's broken tooth. Then my father-in-law says that his dentist has a father and son practice, and bets either one of them would be willing to come in on a Saturday. Each is confident that they have more pull with their dentist(s) and take it on as a competition.

I sort the piece of tooth out from the popcorn that's in my mouth and fold it up into the order form page of my checkbook and tuck it into the middle compartment of my wallet. I assure them that I'll be fine to sit and enjoy the movie and I do. I even kill an entire Ultimate Feast at the Red Lobster afterwards (chewing on my right side only of course).

The next morning my father-in-law scores an appointment with the son portion of the father and son dentists, and he meets us at the office first thing with his pretty wife. While the nice dentist assesses the situation in my mouth, there's lots of chat with Darrin about his being a famous Nebraskan, and my mother-in-law chimes in every so often to add to his list of accomplishments and make sure that the dentist has seen the front page of the paper. Seen the news? Listened to the radio?

I show the dentist the piece of the tooth and much to all of our surprise, it's a piece of a crown, not an actual tooth. He files down the offending sharp edge so that it no longer irritates my cheek, enabling me to go on with the press tour without worry and just deal with a new crown when I get home. He didn't charge us, and we invited him to that evening's big post movie reception and autograph signing. Mom asks him if he'd like Darrin to send him an autographed still from Chicken Little for his wall of famous Nebraskans when we get back home to California. Of course he wants one.

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I hadn't thought about that tooth in a long time. And I wasn't sure what to do while standing at Cinema Secrets, hearing that piece clack onto the ivory tiled floor. The gal behind the counter was asking me to sign the receipt and there I was; holding the store's pen in one hand, the empty crown bindle in the other while frantically searching the floor with my eyes. Something inside me wanted to hold onto that little souvenir for some reason. It wasn't because I wanted to have it put back in my mouth; no, that wasn't even possible. It was sort of gross really, I didn't want to show it to people either.

I think I just wanted to hold onto even just a piece from the crown I wore during that week. The week I spent as the queen wife of the Nebraska boy who made good.

The Big Apple 1994

In 1994 my sisters and I had the opportunity to tag along with my stepmom's high school theater group and enjoy 7 days and 8 plays in New York City! We'd never been there before and were quite excited at the idea of traveling to the big apple the day after Christmas and enjoying all that the city had to offer.
I imagined the the New York of movies; everything covered in snow and lit up with a million twinkle lights. We'd be bundled up and travel by taxi to all of our Broadway shows, dine in eclectic restaurants and diners, and perhaps run into the likes of Robert DeNiro, Martin Scorsese, Billy Crystal, Liza Minelli and who knows who all!

Christmas night I could hardly calm down to get any sleep. I had invested in some hats, ear muffs, scarves and serious gloves; and was more than ready to see my very first snowfall ever; and in NEW YORK for God's sake!
The flight seemed to take forever, and the movie was Forest Gump. I spilled some of my Bloody Mary on my good sweater during some turbulance but no matter, it would be covered in coats and scarves in no time once we landed.
As we taxi'd onto the runway the pilot announced "We are experiencing an unseasonably warm winter for this time of year with no snow in the forecast."
What? NO! WHAT?

It took us forever to get to our hotel. It was very late once we did get there and we were exhausted. My sisters and I had a room down the hall from my Dad and Dee Dee and we made quick work of dropping our bags and jumping onto our beds as soon as we got in. Ooooh it felt good to lie down. We had said goodnight to the parents and had all gotten into our jammies and were enjoying the in-room presentation of the Joy Luck Club when the hotel phone exploded with the loudest ring ever.

It was Dad. "I have a great idea" he said "let's go do the Empire State Building real quick."
We all groaned. "We'll do it tomorrow."
"Nooo! We've got the Whitney Museum tomorrow, dinner at that place in Tribecca, and then we're seeing Carousel. All the rest of the days are booked with a play or two too. If we don't go tonight we won't make it. C'mon kids, WE'RE IN NEW YORK! What a perfect thing to do on our first day here! I'll be there to get you in five minutes." and he gleefully crashed the phone down on its cradle.
"Mei Mei! Mei Mei" were the cries of the sweet Asian girl being tearfully separated from her sister in a very touching scene from Joy Luck Club. My sisters and I decided right then and there that we were now going to refer to each other as such.
We pulled our clothes back on and clumped downstairs.

Another thing Dad insisted would be part of the authentic New York experience was to ride the subway to the Empire State Building. I don't remember what the actual time was but it seemed waaaay late. There was what I assumed was a slightly insane gentelman facing me on the subway just staring. I mean staring. I was trying to act nonchalant when Dad thought it would be a great thing to do to take a snapshot of me on my first real subway ride. In the picture you can see the horror on my face as my father validates any ideas the other passengers may have had about us being lame tourists.

Here's something I learned - there's no such thing as doing the Empire State Building "real quick". There were loooooong turnstyles to wait in just get pack yourself into an elevator that had way over the legal weight in it, and was so vaporous with thick body odor that I choked and coughed while trying not to have a claustrophobia attack.
Once we got up there I remember being so tired and punchy that I just laughed and laughed and teased Dad for dragging us literally from our beds to do this "real quick" errand.
I have lots of great memories about that trip. Mei Mei Casey and me pantomiming the entire song "I Would Die For You" by Prince in the Harley Davidson store, taking pictures next to the stunning amounts of garbage piled on the streets, ice skating in Central Park, frozen hot chocolates at Serendipity's, seeing 8 glorious plays, and soaking up New York with my family.

I didn't ever see any snow fall in New York; and I've been there twice since ("unseasonably warm" again they said). But that sure was a magical trip; I became a theater goer, and I became a Mei Mei.

The Heavy Heart

Over the last few weeks I've been having strange goins on in my chest. It feels like my heart has an invisible hand around it and that hand does a milisecond SQUEEZE which makes me flinch and a puff of air come out of my mouth.
I'll put both hands out onto imaginary steadying rails and look around as if to say "did you feel that" and then stand there for a few seconds to see if it happens again. It doesn't, at least not right away. I might have two in a 30 minute period, but that's it. And they have gone away for a day or two; just long enough for me to think that was the end of that nonsense, then BAMMO, the squeeze by the unseen hand!
My husband has been working a lot of overtime lately, and once I was home alone; just lying on the couch enjoying some Tivo - I got a few of them in a short amount of time. "Oh my god. Is this the little earthquake before the big tsunami? What if it really takes a hold of me and won't let go next time? Will I be able to phone the paramedics? Will I be able to get to the door to unlock it or will they have to smash a window? What if I go permanently unconsious like Terri Schiavo?" It went on and on like that for a while and needless to say, I was convinced that I needed to see the doctor.

I went to see Dr. Marsh last Thursday. They forewarned me that I'd be subjected to a blood test so I immediately put Darrin on notice that he'd be coming with me to hold my hand; or more accurately to allow me to squeeze the color and feeling from his.
I did not care for the blood pressure test that came first. Call me crazy, but something about having my arm strangled until I can feel and almost hear my own heart in it gives me the heebie jeebies. I crank my head into the opposite direction, hold that arm deadly still, and snap my fingers spasmodically with the other hand until it's over.
When the delicate latina beauty came in to take blood, I went right into my panic. Lots of inappropriate giggling, head thrashing, mouth covering, wide eyes and a refusal if not an actual inability to make a fist with the hand attached to the arm that she was about to poke.
To her credit, she did a great job but I was going to admit it. I still couldn't move for several minutes after she took the needle out and wasn't interested in pushing on the cotton ball she taped to the spot of injury like she asked me to.
"Do you have children?" She asked. "No." "Well, when you do, you'll get used to this." Apparently when you're pregnant you must surrender vials on a regular basis. Yick.
When pressed by my husband for just exactly what my problem is in the area of blood testing I can only recall my senior year in high school. It's 1988 and Debi Dodge, my new friend the cheerleader talked me into donating blood to the Red Cross. They were at our school and we could get out of gym AND get extra credit if we donated. Plus I could spend some quality time with Debi with our heads together in an "L" formation and talk about boys or whatever.
The rickety old lady in the Red Cross uniform hooked Debi up first. She seemed fine, although I made the mistake of looking at the needle, which resembled a silver toothpick that had been hollowed out. That thing was HUGE.
I laid there and tried to look cool while the old gal swabbed me with a chilly cotton ball drenched in alcohol. She tied me off, asked me to make a fist and OUCH I felt every bit of that damn needlepick. Puff puff puff, I was taking quick shallow breaths and my back arched up toward the gym ceiling. "Relax dear" the old girl said while she put a big "X" of surgical tape over the needle. "ITHURTSITHURTSITHURTS" I forced out between erractic puffs. "Just relax and it will stop hurting" she again tried to reassure me. Puff, puff "NO. (puff puff) ITSTILLHURTS!" Debi craned her neck up and demaned of our elderly volunteer "Why is it still HURTING HER?"
"Oh goodness, it's in a bit crooked." she said, and do you know what she did next? She slowly peeled the tape back, extracted the needle halfway, straightened it, then shoved it the rest of the way back in! I swear to god!
My back arched highter and I slammed my head into the papered table.

My arm developed a 4 inch bruise of many vile colors and a hard knot the size of a pea formed in the middle of my vein that I had to take antibiots for and apply warm compresses on for a week.

Meanwhile, back in my 2006 appointment, the lovely young latina mother gave me a quick EKG and sent the Dr. back in. He told me he that he did hear some straining sound in my heart, but it was NOTHING SERIOUS, and certainly nothing that would kill me even if it hurt. He said that althogh the EKG looked normal, he wanted me to do a 2D electrocardiogram on Monday (today).

Dr. Marsh didn't say so, but I'm relating these phantom sensations on stress. It's the only thing I can think of. I'm still a young girl, I don't smoke or drink, I don't use accessive amounts of salt, I don't do crack, I don't vomit, I'm not overweight; I simply cannot think of any other reason other than stress. So what could I have to be stressed about?
Let me think...in the last few weeks the following thoughts or events have occurred:

My cat Tiny got a bad infection that before his tests came back appeared to be some kind of brain tumor to the doctor; not to mention the heck of a time we had on the way home from the vet (including but not limited to him vomiting and poo pooing his carrier and himself, and the subsequent cleaning of such offending carrier and very sick kitty all by myself).

My husband expressed a slight worry about the new merger between his company and the one they just aquired which could adversely affect the picture he's on; and therefore his job.

As the kindly blood tester pointed out, I'm almost 36 and am painfully unprepared to have a baby, or address everything that that brings up for me emotionally.

My alpha boss had been prone to snappy comments and being an overall temperamental sniper of misdirected work anxiety; pointing and shooting at will - right at me.

My sweet sister got her feelings hurt really badly by a close family member and I just wanted to make it better for her; and could not.

We're remodeling our bathroom and will literally be flushing thousands down a brand new toilet, sink and tub.

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This morning, as I sat in the waiting room of the Cardiology unit flipping through an outdated issue of USWeekly, I was overcome by the smell of cigarette laced clothing on the folks around me (who were all in their 50s, 60s, 70s and older). I was called in by a red headed gentleman who led me to my room past a noisy row of chairs with arm extenders. There was someone in each chair with their arm on the extender and a number of medical assistants attending to most of them. I wasn't allowed any coffee this morning so it took a moment to realize that all the slapping and smacking I was hearing was that of the arms of the folks in the chairs while their veins were being coaxed to come out and receive their iv fluids. EEEK! Walk faster. Walk faster.

The red head and I had our time together in silence. He stuck a few patches onto my chest and attached wires to them. Then he had me lie on my side, dropped the table out from under my rib cage, goo'ed up a wand and pressed it down firmly on different areas of my chest and ribs. I didn't care for the sensation of feeling my heart beat on this cold and goopy wand, nor did I care for hearing my heart every so often when Red would flip a switch to get a different type of swishing space age beat sound. I only took one look at the monitor and that was all I needed. The sight of my heart doing some crazy dance with different colors in different areas was nothing I could stand to look at. So I turned away. Tried to turn off, and found my eyes wet with exhausted tears.



Tiny's tests came back negative for anything serious and he's responding well to the antibiotics. He's about 99% better.

My husband reminded me that he'll take care of me and of us. No matter what. We'll be alright.

My sister brandished one of her new tools she picked up from watching Starting Over and pointed out that the family member is "who he is." And she lovingly accepts him as such.

I had a meeting with my boss and she agreed that she had been reacting from stress; not at all meaning to offend or upset me in the process and gave me a hug.

Growing up with the kind of mother that I did, I have never felt financially secure. At the age of 15 my Baskin Robbins paychecks helped us barely make the rent more than a few times; so of course I'm anxious around spending big amounts of money.


It'll take a few days to get my results back, but you know what? Since I had the test I have not been squeezed by an unseen hand. At least not around my heart. Not in that painful way. But I have felt a warm hand, and I have felt taken care of.