At 1:00 this morning, Merkin took me to the ER because the pain had become excruciating. They did this painful procedure involving what looked like cheap, wooden chopsticks and some red goop to deaden the nerve (did NOT help), then prescribed vicodin (did NOT help EITHER) and antibiotics (I assume those ARE helping). At 6:30 am, I decided I was never going to last until my appointment at 9:30, so I woke Merkin up early and told him we were storming the dentist’s office. We got there about 8:15, just as all the staff were arriving for work. They asked, “How ya doin’?” I said, “Bad.” Merkin said, “Extremely bad.” They rushed me in without pausing for coffee and a donut. Actually, I have no idea if there were donuts. I hope there weren’t. I love donuts.
Dr. Dentist had me in a chair within minutes. I did not play coy; I told him I had an infection, all the symptoms, vicodin doesn’t help, yadayadayada. He told me that no medicine would’ve relieved the pain because built-up pressure in a tooth has nowhere to go but hurt. (My words, not his. He sounds much more intelligent than that.) He shot me up with novocaine (Merkin was brave — held my hand through the whole ordeal and just turned his head every time the needle came near me.) about four times and then started drilling for oil. Well, not really, but the way it geysered when the drill broke through made it seem like that. I’m sorry. Was that too much information? Too bad. I lost count of how many additional novocaine shots I got throughout the procedure, but I think the total was maybe seven or eight. Anyway…Dr. Dentist scooped out rotted/infected nerve, filled the hole with medicine, topped it with a teeny gauze pad to absorb any pressure build-up, and sealed everything up with another medicine that contained oil of cloves. My mouth tasted like Christmas. I think that’s what I told Merkin. I was feeling no pain and ready to fall asleep by that time.
I’ve spent the rest of the day sleeping, eating the occasional soft food, and popping steroids (to inhibit inflammation) and antibiotics (because once you commit to taking the first one, you’ve committed to taking the last one). BratzBasher has been a wonderful little nurse, making sure I wake up to take my medicine, setting up my favorite Teen Titans episodes on the DVD player, loaning me Get Well Puppy (her go-to sickbed stuffed animal companion since the age of…five?), and fetching me ice cream bars which I’ve been forced to eat in thin slices with a fork because I can’t open my mouth very wide these days. My jaw joint hurts too much. I think that’s from sitting for almost an hour in the dentist’s chair with my mouth as wide as I could keep it.
I’m most grateful to Merkin for driving me to and from the ER and dentist’s office, holding my hand, getting my medicine, and making a mashed potato run at 11:00 last night when he finally got a chance to read my blog. He’s awesome. I knew there was a reason why I married him.