My Best Christmas Gift Ever

And to think I almost didn't get that prescription filled yesterday afternoon because I was doing so well with ibuprofen, what a dummy. So, I haven't been acting responsibly re: my cracked tooth, #19 to be exact, left lower jaw. A chunk fell out a few months ago. I just got used to the jagged edge because I was in big time denial about the necessity to DO something about it other than put my tongue in the hole every waking minute. But, of course, I knew, in my best most grown-up brain, that I couldn't neglect it forever, but the last time I had a crown put in, I agreed to have the permanent tooth glued onto the pretty and attractive stub of the old tooth (is that the creepiest thing in the world?) without novocaine, to avoid the numb slobber mouth effect, and when the glue hit the exposed nerves in the dentin, well, I passed out. I was crying, I had the dentist crying, it was very very unpleasant.

So, with that memory hovering in the back of my nervous system, it was easy to tune out the voice of responsibility that kept nagging at me and saying: geez woman, get into the dentist before it gets bad and becomes an emergency and there you are, in throbbing pain over the Christmas holidays and no way to do anything about it except indulge in buckets of self-recrimination. So, I finally listened to the voice of my better self and the dentist was able to fit me in yesterday afternoon to take a look at the crater I've been neglecting. He didn't want to mess with it, said he'd be "cranking" on my tooth for hours and an endodontist would be in. out. zip. zip. zip in an hour. More expensive (me = self-employed = no dental insurance), but less time in the chair vs. more dollars, no contest. So I walked out of the dentist's office with a referral and two prescriptions: penicillin and Lortab. My very first thought, oh heck, I don't need pain pills, I've been getting along with this pulsing penumbra of pain for many weeks, I don't need any stinking pain pills. But for the bargain price of $5.98, what the heck Mr. Pharmacist, fill 'er up while I run next door to Big Lots and do some last minute panic shopping for stocking stuffers. Two birds, one stone, love it when that happens.

I took two of the penicillin tabs the minute I got home, where good friend Marque was watching all our kids to cover my late arrival home, we ate take and bake pizza, drank a glass of wine, and glory glory, no pain, the penicillin was kicking some cracked tooth butt, or so I thought. I was so happy. Until 12:18 am when the pain woke me up like a lightening strike and I wanted to pull my own tooth out of my head with beading pliers. It took a few minutes, but I rememberd the Lortab and convinced myself that it was worth it to stand up and drag my butt into the kitchen several throbbing steps away.

I've never needed pain pills in my adult life, no surgery, no accidents, very lucky woman, so who knew, who knew?? One small medical marvel later, and sweet bliss, the pain went away. I slept well for the first time in weeks. To hell with my freakishly high pain tolerance, I don't need it anymore, someone has invented a reason not to just grin and bear it. What a gift, what a wonderful Christmas miracle. I'm a little vulnerable right now, what with the throbbing pain on and off and sleep deprivation, so in this weakened state, it might be possible to convince me of the existence of a higher being. Of course, not in the biblical sense, more like a benign and kindly chemist or pharmaceutical researcher in a white lab coat and half-moon spectacles pushed up on his balding forehead, smiling sweetly with a prescription bottle in his out-stretched hand. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus, to mix a few metaphors, because I got my gift two days early this year and there you have it, proof positive. Of course, next week, root canal, but until then, I have a way to deal with the Fred Flintsone (remember when Barney would smack Fred's toe and it would pulse big, little, big, little?) effect going on in my head. Who knew? Life is good.