Hurty McHurt Hurt
Aug. 25th, 2004 03:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flummeryHmmm. Got derailed again. This time, by a wisdom tooth, imploding like a small bomb in my head.
On Sunday night, it was a mild irritation, like a slightly sore gum, from not enough flossing, or something. Monday, very, very early in the morning, I woke up thinking... hrm... gaaah... pain? Monday morning, I confronted the fact that I did not currently have a dentist, and was now very much in need of one. Basically, my dentist retired about 9 months ago, and put a new guy in the position. Same support staff, new dentist. I met him twice and my dislike was... intense. Old dentist? Fantastic. Careful, modern methods, expensive as hell, but very good. New guy? Managed to convince me he was a quack in nothing flat. It was quite impressive. So for the last 9 months, I've been dodging their phone calls to the effect of "You're late for that cleaning. You're now really late for that cleaning. Do you remember us saying you have a cavity in that tooth...?" With polite little efforts like: "Um. I have another call. Can I get back to you?" (Yeah, I'm subtle, all right).
So it's Monday, I'm in pain, and I can't call up my own dentist, both because of the whole "avoiding" thing, and the fact that... I'd rather knock the tooth out myself with a hammer then let him near my mouth. I do a frantic networking thing, where I manage to get a referral for a local guy all the way from my old dentist, who I haven't seen in years, back in DC. I call new dentist in desperation, and they schedule me for Wednesday morning. They also tell me firmly to call the old dentist, and have my x-rays sent over. I can see there point -- no need to subject my skull to a new set of x-rays, when I've had a complete set done in the last year. I steel myself, call them... and manage to survive the guilt. It's guilt towards the support staff - they're lovely, wonderful people - that I have here. And sure, it's strange, but I feel it anyway. To their credit, they didn't even ask why I was leaving, although I had prepared a whole set of answers for them, in case they did. "It's not you! any of you! It's... HIM!"
So I'm thinking "All set! Will suck down the motrin til Wednesday morning, and heck, it'll probably resolve itself on its own by then, and they'll tell me I'm a hypochondriac, like most of my doctors do."
But by 1 am on Tuesday morning, it's clear I'm not going to make it until Wednesday. I leave a desperate message on the new dentist's phone going "Um. How about... now? Any chance you're awake, and still at the office? HUH? ANYONE? HELLO?"
I spend the night waking up every two hours, trying to figure out how much motrin I've already taken, and how many more pills I can take without od'ing. The dentist calls me back at 7:30 (yay for dentists who start the day early!) and get me to describe the symptoms. I tell them I think it's the wisdom tooth. They doubt me, and direct me to go immediately to their root canal specialist. I stagger up, and dress, and decide against driving, since I have no idea what the day has in store, and go in search of a bus. The bus takes forever. I'm shaking by the time it finally pulls up. From the bus to the train. From the train to *another* train. It's 10 am by the time I get there, and I'm terrified they won't have time/space to take me, but they get me in almost immediately, and they're nice, and extremely competent, and soothing. Possibly I looked... bad, because they kept coming in to check on me while they developed the x-rays and stuff. The dentist taps all the teeth, squints at the x-ray and pronounces... "Wisdom tooth." Yeah, like I didn't know that already! But he did say it was unusual (for whatever reasons). So he calls around to his contacts, to find someone who can take me immediately, and puts me back on the train.
I get there, survive the small children with batman action figures in the waiting room (Wonder People, I am informed), and 30 minutes later... am sans wisdom tooth. They offered it to me, and I sort of regret not taking it now, but at the time, it was just this huge, bloody chunk of bone that had *betrayed* me.
I grab a cab to get me home, which is one of the best decisions I've ever made, since the pain shows up halfway through the ride home, and if I'd been on the T... I'm pretty sure paramedics would have been involved. I fill my prescription at the CVS, and wander frantically around the store, buying stuff at random (seriously. I got home, and discovered that the mac and cheese I thought I had purchased was... meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I appear to have been seriously out of it). I go home. I desperately take pills. I wander around my apartment shouting at inanimate objects and shaking in pain. I manage a nap. I call Thing 1 and wail at her. Thing 1 nods soothingly, and shows up 2 hours later, bearing soup and pudding (thank freaking GOD.). And then? I fall asleep.
Twelve hours or so later, I wake up and... still pain, but my god, things are better. Not to mention, sleeping, finally, after two nights of... not so much sleeping.
So today, I have done... not a lot. Forgot to take the trash out last night, for starters, and only remembered when the trucks rumbled by. Fed the cats. Used up all remaining energy watering all the plants in the yard and then... took a nap. I keep trying to do small things, like reading a book but... naps keep interfering. Soon? Thing 1 will show up again, with more soup, and more pudding.
For now? I nap.
On Sunday night, it was a mild irritation, like a slightly sore gum, from not enough flossing, or something. Monday, very, very early in the morning, I woke up thinking... hrm... gaaah... pain? Monday morning, I confronted the fact that I did not currently have a dentist, and was now very much in need of one. Basically, my dentist retired about 9 months ago, and put a new guy in the position. Same support staff, new dentist. I met him twice and my dislike was... intense. Old dentist? Fantastic. Careful, modern methods, expensive as hell, but very good. New guy? Managed to convince me he was a quack in nothing flat. It was quite impressive. So for the last 9 months, I've been dodging their phone calls to the effect of "You're late for that cleaning. You're now really late for that cleaning. Do you remember us saying you have a cavity in that tooth...?" With polite little efforts like: "Um. I have another call. Can I get back to you?" (Yeah, I'm subtle, all right).
So it's Monday, I'm in pain, and I can't call up my own dentist, both because of the whole "avoiding" thing, and the fact that... I'd rather knock the tooth out myself with a hammer then let him near my mouth. I do a frantic networking thing, where I manage to get a referral for a local guy all the way from my old dentist, who I haven't seen in years, back in DC. I call new dentist in desperation, and they schedule me for Wednesday morning. They also tell me firmly to call the old dentist, and have my x-rays sent over. I can see there point -- no need to subject my skull to a new set of x-rays, when I've had a complete set done in the last year. I steel myself, call them... and manage to survive the guilt. It's guilt towards the support staff - they're lovely, wonderful people - that I have here. And sure, it's strange, but I feel it anyway. To their credit, they didn't even ask why I was leaving, although I had prepared a whole set of answers for them, in case they did. "It's not you! any of you! It's... HIM!"
So I'm thinking "All set! Will suck down the motrin til Wednesday morning, and heck, it'll probably resolve itself on its own by then, and they'll tell me I'm a hypochondriac, like most of my doctors do."
But by 1 am on Tuesday morning, it's clear I'm not going to make it until Wednesday. I leave a desperate message on the new dentist's phone going "Um. How about... now? Any chance you're awake, and still at the office? HUH? ANYONE? HELLO?"
I spend the night waking up every two hours, trying to figure out how much motrin I've already taken, and how many more pills I can take without od'ing. The dentist calls me back at 7:30 (yay for dentists who start the day early!) and get me to describe the symptoms. I tell them I think it's the wisdom tooth. They doubt me, and direct me to go immediately to their root canal specialist. I stagger up, and dress, and decide against driving, since I have no idea what the day has in store, and go in search of a bus. The bus takes forever. I'm shaking by the time it finally pulls up. From the bus to the train. From the train to *another* train. It's 10 am by the time I get there, and I'm terrified they won't have time/space to take me, but they get me in almost immediately, and they're nice, and extremely competent, and soothing. Possibly I looked... bad, because they kept coming in to check on me while they developed the x-rays and stuff. The dentist taps all the teeth, squints at the x-ray and pronounces... "Wisdom tooth." Yeah, like I didn't know that already! But he did say it was unusual (for whatever reasons). So he calls around to his contacts, to find someone who can take me immediately, and puts me back on the train.
I get there, survive the small children with batman action figures in the waiting room (Wonder People, I am informed), and 30 minutes later... am sans wisdom tooth. They offered it to me, and I sort of regret not taking it now, but at the time, it was just this huge, bloody chunk of bone that had *betrayed* me.
I grab a cab to get me home, which is one of the best decisions I've ever made, since the pain shows up halfway through the ride home, and if I'd been on the T... I'm pretty sure paramedics would have been involved. I fill my prescription at the CVS, and wander frantically around the store, buying stuff at random (seriously. I got home, and discovered that the mac and cheese I thought I had purchased was... meatloaf and mashed potatoes. I appear to have been seriously out of it). I go home. I desperately take pills. I wander around my apartment shouting at inanimate objects and shaking in pain. I manage a nap. I call Thing 1 and wail at her. Thing 1 nods soothingly, and shows up 2 hours later, bearing soup and pudding (thank freaking GOD.). And then? I fall asleep.
Twelve hours or so later, I wake up and... still pain, but my god, things are better. Not to mention, sleeping, finally, after two nights of... not so much sleeping.
So today, I have done... not a lot. Forgot to take the trash out last night, for starters, and only remembered when the trucks rumbled by. Fed the cats. Used up all remaining energy watering all the plants in the yard and then... took a nap. I keep trying to do small things, like reading a book but... naps keep interfering. Soon? Thing 1 will show up again, with more soup, and more pudding.
For now? I nap.
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no subject
Date: 2004-08-25 12:57 pm (UTC)Teeth things can be the worst. It sounds like it was much better than it might have been, with helpful people, at least. And yay for Thing 1 and her pudding and soup!
If you keep napping, it means your body needs it. Don't fight the nap!
no subject
Date: 2004-08-25 02:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-25 03:34 pm (UTC)Yeah, I don't think frozen meatloaf would really work. Even defrosted meatloaf! *g*
And just for my $.02 worth about the clotting thing: I know when I had my wisdom (I had all four taken out at once), they warned me about the clots and everything, but what I got was those Mr. Mistys from Dairy Queen, as that was nice and cold, but not overly thick and clot-threatening. Mmm, ice. *g*