Once Upon a Monday

DaGoddess @ 00:24

I started explaining how my teeth began crumbling in my mouth in the comments of the last post and figured I’d share the whole insane story here, where more of you could join in the uneasy laughter and occasional cringing.

So, here we go. It all started on Monday. I was before dawn to go shoot with my friend MOBT. We do the nude shoots together. He decided he needed more breast work with me and I agreed. It’s been a year since we’ve worked together and I thought it would be good to catch up with him.

Off to the arroyo we went. We were going to shoot, then he was going to buy me breakfast, and then we were going to hit a second location.

The arroyo is a cool place. I took LD there last year and we wandered around, exploring. I was fascinated by the way the light bounced between the fine powdered pale walls that had been etched by water and wind. T and I figured the ligh would be good for our early morning shoot. The time of day meant we wouldn’t be risking heat exhaustion since it was low 80s at 6am. We arrived just as the sun started to hit the tips of the highest walls. Perfection.

I got undressed (leaving my shoes on – such a lovely look) and we walked back into one niche that looked promising. I sat down and posed, know exactly what T wanted until he was inspired to try something else (one of the benefits of working with the same person repeatedly). Click click turn lift your head let your hair hang over your face click click head up go back to eyes closed click click. And the I changed position. I had my feet up on a ledge and was leaning back, comfy in my little nest when T said he wanted me sittingup more. I checked the area, as I always do before place my bare feet or bare anything anywhere and started getting into position OH HOLY SHIT OUCH MOTHER FUCKER OUCH! Invisible prickly thingies appeared from under the powdery dirt, firmly attache to the sole of my left foot. I tried to extract one but couldn’t get the right angle.

T to the rescue! I rolled onto my side and extended my foot to him, where he began the lengthy, delicate removal process. “I don’t want to accidentally leave something in your foot.” Nice having a detail-oriented former Army Ranger on hand for such things. He got every last little sucker out of my foot and we returned to our shoot, none the worse for wear.

We move to a couple other locations and got some more shots in, but then he and I both started feeling dizzy and kind of out of it. We packed up and I got dressed, and off we went, hiking back to the car.

Now, all the walking I’ve been doing has paid off. I no longer lag behind, huffing and puffing. Except for some reason, I kept having to stop to take a drink of my water. And to deal with dizziness. And some nausea that was creeping up on me. T was kind of in the same boat, minus the nausea. I kept smelling paint
fumes, like heavy duty, industrial kind of paint fumes. T doesn’t smell it at first, but then he does. He’s ready to get the hell outta Dodge just as much as I am.

We get to the car, settle in, and are off to breakfast. As we get almost to our exit, I beg him to pull over – quickly – and barely make it out of the car before I start heaving my guts out. All that’s there is water and bile (I’ve really really not been eating much lately – like something small every two days, thanks to Cymbalta). I repeat ths a few times and feel better. So we’re off to Denny’s. Bacon awaits me! Except itdoesn’t. Tried some cranberry juice, doesn’t taste good. Bring on the ice water. I suck that up like a camel refilling its tank. End up not ordering food since I’vehad to go vomit again. I do, however, say I’ll try some of T’s toast. I never get around to it as there is more barfng to be done.
After he finishes, I wrap the toast up, planning to nibble at it later. We stop at a store and I load up on gatorade (wrong flavor) and a bottle of lemon lime soda…all $1 each. Finally get home, shower off all the dirt, notice my foot (of the prickly attack) is swollen and discolored, get dressed, make ice pack, elevate foot, settle down to rest after some wrong-flavored gatorade, doze off for a few hours.

I awaken parched, achey, a little dizzy, slightly woozy, but my foot looks much better and I feel like eating something. I got after the toast. Manage to eat all of it. A good sign. I work on more gatorade and water, letting my stomach adjust. Finally, I decide something soft and bland might go down well. I make mashed potatoes and throw in the lastlittl bit of cheddar I had. They’re good!

And then it happened: crunch. WTF? I kinda spit out what’s in my mouth, think maybe it was some pepper or something until the next bite: crunch. Now it hits me. Just like last time, except this is three teeth! FUCK! I don’t need this now. Can’t afford it now. I don’t have the time or patienc or money or even the mental strength to deal with it. But one cannot live with crumbling teeth that will only lead to bigger, costlier problems.

Thus I spent yesterday looking for a dentist, even hit up the dental school. The least expensive option was $2800 and that includes the antibiotics I have to take becauseof a little heart murmur. Now I just gotta raise it.

I got $100 coming in on Saturday and God only knows where the rest will come from. If you want to help, I’d appreciate every penny. Paypal work – dagoddess (at) gmail dot com is all you need to make a donation. I’m willing to offer digital downloads of any of my images to donors. details to follow


  1. I’m afraid that all I can offer are prayers. You do have those.

    Comment by Peter — 2011/07/28 @ 19:28

  2. Thank you, Peter! Prayer helps. Hugs!

    Comment by Da Goddess — 2011/07/29 @ 01:29

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