Ladies and gentlemen, I have a stranger’s bone in my face. A deceased stranger, to be exact.
Last week I had a horrible tooth ache, and I knew something was very wrong. But unfortunately, I did not have time to make it to a dentist. I really thought with some oragel and some ibuprofen I could make it until after some deadlines passed. Boy was I wrong. Enter several nights of misery that involved me waking up throughout the night in extreme pain and slathering unhealthy amounts of oragel through out my mouth, only to wake up again 15 minutes later when the oragel wore off. UGG.
I’ve never been one to “have a friend who has a friend” (i.e. “connections”), but as I lamented to a friend on Saturday about my pain, it turned out her husband had a friend who was a dentist and worked Saturdays. I was so excited! They called her for me but unfortunately she had left work at 2:30pm that day. She offered some advice on how to ease the pain until Monday, but told me if it didn’t help to text her that night and she would meet me at her office on Sunday. Sure enough, it only got worse, and this angel of a dentist agreed to meet me in her office at 9am on a SUNDAY.
Since it was a Sunday, she didn’t have a receptionist or assistant on hand, so I got to do fun things like hold the xray thing in place and hold various other tools and suction tubes. Long story short… we ended up needing to pull a very back tooth in my mouth. And the bone damage was so bad back there that the dentist recommended transplanting some bone in there. At the time I was all “sure! whatever you recommend I trust you!” And then last night all of a sudden I was like “OMG I HAVE A DEAD STRANGER’S BONE TRANSPLANTED IN MY FACE!” Needless to say, I’m a little creeped out. And simultaneously a little grateful that people donate their bones, because I imagine finding one of my own bones elsewhere in my body to replace the missing one would have been signficantly more painful 😉
On a related note, how AWESOME is modern medicine? Can you imagine getting your tooth pulled out sans drugs? All Tom-Hanks-In-Castaway style?! I think I would rather die than have any part of my body removed without medication. I’m a little dramatic, I know. Speaking of that, in my desperate quest to find a dentist open on a weekend, I found this “downtown emergency dental” place. The website had extremely poor grammar, and it said to call the number several times if there was no answer and “he should pick up, unless there is bad cell reception.” I’m sorry, but if someone can’t put together sentences properly, I don’t want them working in my mouth. Honestly, at moments I was in so much pain that I considered it, but I pictured this “emergency dental care” place to be a sweaty, back room somewhere where they just give you a bottle of tequila to handle the pain. No thank you. And they don’t have a landline?? WEIRD. Thankfully, my sanity managed to reign over my pain, and I spared myself a trip to sketcy backdoor dentist land.
In other news, my dog might be pregnant. It has been a crazy week in the Michelle/Ellie household.