Part Three in the Dental Saga

So I got home last night and fell apart. This tooth pain achieved a whole new level. The dog had run off to his favorite place to run off to, the little old lady's house down the street. The little old lady swears she doesn't feed Fat Baxter, except maybe that one time she put food out for her cat and perhaps Fat Baxter got some of it. Ya think? Anyway, its our problem since its our dog and our fence that he manages to escape from, so we have to go collect him several times a week, which I was off to do.

I got to the door and bolts of pain radiated out of my FRONT TEETH this time. Up til now it has only hurt in the back, but this was coming from my upper right canine. I literally dropped to my knees, put hands over my face and tears just started falling. My poor Willie was a bit beside himself, putting his arm around my back "What's wrong Mommy? We have pink pills that can make you feel better" (these are his childrens pepto bismol tabs - inciter of many faked belly aches. He has supreme faith that they cure what ails ya. On the good side it was wonderful to see this caring side of my son. In the past, my tears have mostly made him laugh hysterically.

Anyway, it got better, I popped an 800mg motrin and that saw me through til 1am in just a low level of pain. At which time Boone vomited all over our bed for the second night in a row and then cried his eyes out as his poor little tummy churned and gurgled and I sat helplessly beside him, sobbing for my helplessness as well as my own little festering den of misery that was my mouth. Boonie finally got back to peaceful sleep but at this point my head was on fire and I wasn't due for another Motrin for another three hours. I repeatedly crammed crushed ice into my mouth and drooled it back out onto a towel, afraid to swallow lest it set of another shock wave. My dear dear husband has a big interview today and I'd planned to be very holly hobby about things and have the house in order and children taken care of so he didn't have to worry about anything but getting himself to the interview and showing them how wonderful he is. Instead he's up in the middle of the night comforting our screaming baby and crushing ice for me. I felt quite the failure.

This morning I asked him to take the kids to school as I am afraid to drive with them in the car in case I have some sort of even worse attack. I feel bad about that too. But I can't risk it and don't know if I can handle any other activity besides getting myself back to the dentist. I called this morning to get numbers for the endodontist, but apparently my dentist can do root canals on the front teeth, just not the multi-rooted rear teeth, so it will be nice to go somewhere familiar to be butchered. At this point I don't even care what he does as long as I can be drugged and when I come around this pain is gone. I may seriously be missing front teeth when I come home today - the bad one is connected to a fake tooth that fills a toothless gap left over from some reconstruction I had done about eleven years ago, so I'm not sure how that will be taken care of. Like I say, I don't care, vanity is the least of my concerns at this moment. If its really funny looking I'll post a picture for you all later.

Wish me luck