Operation: Banish The Hell Tooth

First, I love my mom. Have I ever told you people that? My sister in law was going to babysit but couldn't, so I asked my mom, who was unexpectedly available. Cool mom points round one. Then, when I got home from my appointment and was in way more pain than I'd ever imagined a tooth could give you, she offered to stay the night. And then I wept into her shoulder. Or would have, except that my face had just been run over by a semi.

THEN. She took The Child on a walk in 90 DEGREE WEATHER (my mom just about dies when it's anything over about 60). And they've been gone for over an hour, and my face is feeling better, and I'm feeling like maybe I can handle parenthood again, imagine that! So it turned out it was a good thing my sister in law had to back out because with three kids, a job and a husband, there's no way she could have stayed this long, however much fun that would have been.

Second, I love my dentist. Totally worth the hour-long round trip. I love him almost as much as I love my OB. He was nice! And complimented my teeth! And chastised me for not flossing! And told me I needed a cleaning, STAT! But I didn't mind because he said it in such a way that I wanted to do these things just to make him happy. I do not know how he did that, but he did. And despite the horribleness of my visit, I retain my goodwill toward that man. And his hygienist. She was wonderful, too. I love that whole office, actually. A far, far cry from my previous experiences.

So, really? I'm kind of glad my tooth went kaplooey in a spectacularly awful way. There's nothing else that could have gotten me to a dentist, and while I'll probably always be nervous about dentists, this one made a huge dent (hahah! pun!) in my fear.

Now, I'm starving. I do not have the courage to eat. And you people know how I feel about food. *sob*

Evil Tooth from Hell

Let me tell you something, kids. If you have a dentist phobia, don't ever let that keep you from taking care of tooth problems. Just trust me on this. PROMISE.

I had a root canal in 6th grade. Very weird, since I had perfect teeth until just a few years ago. Anyway, a while ago, it broke apart, but it didn't really hurt, so I just decided I could live with it. Until... I don't know when. I wasn't really thinking about that. I was just thinking I could keep avoiding the dentist forever. Which was REALLY REALLY DUMB, OH MY GOSH.

Yesterday I bit into a chicken sandwich, and then purple stars and razor blades erupted from The Tooth from Hell. There may have been profanity.

I took three ibuprofen, and the pain diminished, and I thought it would be okay until Monday, and then I took three more right before bed. However, I woke up in the middle of the night, and my jaw was on fire. So I took three more and tried to sleep. Silly me. It took a while.

And then today it just got worse and worse and worse until finally we got ahold of the dentist (who, by the way, I haven't even met yet, and he's already changing my opinion of dentists in general because he was so great with James and his wisdom teeth, and so great this evening on the phone). And I have painkillers and antibiotics on the way, as soon as James gets home from Walmart. However much that place pisses me off sometimes, I am quite pleased with them today. James got there after they closed, and they STILL started on my prescription. I am not sure that James passed on the message about me loving them and wanting to bake them all cookies, except that my baking skills are so abysmal as to make any cookies poisonous.

My tooth is getting taken care of tomorrow, maybe Tuesday, and I just cannot wait. I have never been excited to see a dentist. And, let me tell you people, I will never EVER be lax in going to the dentist again. And I will be ON IT if my kids tell me any dentist ever humiliates them so much they never want to go to one again. Because that's why I'm afraid of dentists. My dentist's motto was: Better oral hygiene through fear, humiliation and lectures! Dear Dentist Man, THAT DOESN'T WORK. It makes kids afraid of you forever, and it makes them ignore everything you say. Just FYI.

Well, I'm not entirely sure that's what really happened because I can't recall anything that actually happened (except that the Novocaine didn't work all that well). Just a general impression of feeling like a big fat loser who chewed on toilet seats for fun