Heartbreaking Experiences

I’m about to tell you a long convoluted story of three different things that, depending upon your political bent, you might not think are related. That’s ok. I’m not here to change anyone’s mind on anything.

So, today, while at work and chewing on a strawberry Twizzler…I lost a front tooth. I did! I never thought I would ever have to go through that experience again after finally getting up the nerve to suffer through


I suffered through braces, bad teeth and being genetically ‘defective’ ALL of my life. No joke. Every single motherfucking day of my life. In elementary school my ‘genetic defect’ caused me to have two very small and extremely pointy teeth where my canines should have been. People made fun of me. When I was fourteen and the braces came off I got a retainer that had false teeth on it. For the very first time in my life I had a SMILE! A REAL one! When I was fifteen and the retainer was cast aside I got ‘bonded teeth’. Unfortunately those three false ‘bonded’ teeth were connected to baby teeth that I’d never lost because there weren’t any adult teeth to replace them. BUT, again, I had a SMILE.

When I was 25 those ‘bonded teeth’ began…stripping away. Literally. In strips. They fell apart. The baby teeth connected to them decayed and died.

I was married with two children by then and our lovely dental ‘insurance’ didn’t cover ‘pre-existing conditions’. I had to BEG my mother to help me. She saw fit to get me a plate. Truth be told, if she hadn’t been so cheap or shortsighted she would have realized the true benefit of having a BRIDGE made but…whatever. I got my first plate and my SMILE returned. I guess no one told her that plate would eventually erode my existing teeth although she should have known that since she had more false teeth than I ever will. She was just mad at me for leaving home, getting married, having children, and living my own life. I see that now. Truly, I do. Trust me, she had way more than ‘enough’ money to allow me to avoid a lifetime of pain, agony, and embarrassment but she chose not to spend it that way. Whatever. It was her money. She could spend it however she chose. She could have left me TOOTHLESS! But she did not and for that small fact I am forever grateful.

I know she was trying to help me while safeguarding her own financial future. BUT…the bridge was only about $200.00 more than the plate. AND my mother had plates on top and bottom in her mouth. She might have wanted to protect me from the pain and embarrassment she went through for so many years until, at at age 62, she was forced to get a full top plate. She died 4 years later. Always covering her own smile. Never Laughing Out Loud. Never fully opening her mouth to state whatever opinion she might have had. I guess she felt the same was ‘good enough’ for me, her daughter (although nothing more than an adopted daughter).

That’s not to say she didn’t love me, I have no doubt in the world that she did. But, being a ‘change of life baby’ herself….the doctors told my bed ridden grandmother that the child growing inside her (my mother) was a…I shit you not…’cancerous tumor’. They held that belief right up until my grandmother went into LABOR with my mother!

Yeah. Good deal. So much for the ‘medical profession’ and therein lies my distrust of the same.

Flashforward…there I am..TODAY at WORK…doing nothing more than eating a Strawberry Twizzler when my front tooth falls out.

Thankfully that’s not the FIRST time that’s happened to me.

I dealt with the situation with as much grace as I could muster even as a Union Member was attempting to buy a stupid t-shirt. He’s a nice guy. He looked at me, as he’s done so many times before, and said; “Hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart? Are you ok?”

I showed him the fallen tooth.

“What the fuck is THAT? A TOOTH? Are you ok? Are you HURT? What can I do?”

Covering my mouth to block his view I uttered something like; “I’m fine. What can I do for you?”

“Come on, smile, it’s ok. Do you know how many guys I know who’ve lost TEETH? It’s ok, smile.”

No motherfucking way! Gods love him, I know he was absolutely sincere but still…NO.

I finished his transaction. Then I went home to get my back-up plate. The reason it’s my back-up plate is because it never fit very well and it has a…well…I dunno..an imperfection that cuts into my cheek. BUT I didn’t lose my shit. That’s the important part. I went home. I got the back-up plate, I washed it, I sealed it, I shoved it into my mouth and I WENT BACK TO WORK.

So…yeah…go me.

I did that EVEN THOUGH my car is fucked up! I’m afraid to drive it. I am.


It’s low on transmission fluid.

And, according to Ford, one should not be allowed to do maintenance on the vehicle they own.

That’s right, my hubby of 31 years, who has always taken care of our vehicles CANNOT do so much as put transmission fluid in my car.

Yeah, sorry, Charlie, you need a ‘special tool’.


So he made an appointment with our mechanic…definitely NOT the local FORD dealer…for me to bring the car in and have the transmission fluid re-placed/filled. Yeah, there’s no way we’re giving money to Ford for such a simple thing. In fact, I have come to firmly believe that owing the American Muscle I’ve so longed for is the ONLY way to go. Give me a car built in AMERICA between 1940 and 1980 any day! Chances are its easy to work on and even easier to soup-up. Fuck your damn computers.

Any-hoo…I came back to work and started doing my job when I overheard two males talking about Abortion.

You know, Women’s Rights.

All that happy slappy.

I cringed. I really did as I listened to them talk.

I realized how far we’ve yet to go.

Wanna know something? If not, click out now.

I’ve laid on that fucking table 4 times and had 4 children sucked away from me.

Yes, I have.

For all of the studies and the ‘talk’ from the Democratic Party…each one of those times took a little piece of my soul that I can never get back. Not ever.

I know ME more than anyone else will ever know ME and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that at least one of the times I laid on that table, against my will, with tears in my eyes, a son was taken away from me. A son that without doubt hesitation or reservation I KNOW  was meant to bring into this world. I grieve his loss. It weighs on my very soul until this day and beyond.


If I hadn’t had the courage to lay on that table then my LIVING daughters wouldn’t have the life that they enjoy.


Because a whole shit ton of people only care about their God.

They only care that a baby is BORN.

They couldn’t give a shit less how it survives.

Time and again, I laid on that table heartbroken. Wishing for better. But knowing that wasn’t a reality.

To this very day the loss of those children haunts me even though, in my heart and soul, I know I did the very best I could for my living children.


So, you know, when crawl int bed at at night and reflect on your political beliefs…..ask yourself; Am I pro-choice, pro-life,  or merely pro-birth.


As a reformed Catholic….the answer might surprise you.


But only if you have the spine to be totally honest with yourself.

Do you?




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