The 'Oh My God I'm In So Much Pain I Could Die' Post

I'm being punished. I don't know by whom, or why, but that I'm being punished is clearly the case.

Wednesday started off at a crippled, limping pace. I'd just spent three days nursing my child back to pre-Pink Eye levels of health, and felt completely washed-out, burnt-out, and out-of-sorts. As I sat at my desk in front of the computer, letting the warm flow of information from the interwebs wash over me, I shifted my jaw slightly and felt this weird, well, crunch. Funny, there was something in my mouth. And I hadn't been eating. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS GOING ON IN THERE?

I pushed my tongue around and fished out the object. It was a frighteningly large piece of tooth.

And here's where the fun begins.

First of all, need I even say how grossed out I was by this discovery? Yeah, I thought not.

Second of all, oh my god, what do you even do? I sat there for a few minutes, just staring at this jagged tooth shard, in some sort of horrified, paralytic daze. Then I thought: Self, you need to call Jamie. He'll know what to do.

Our conversation went a little something like this:

(ring, ring)

Jamie: Hello?

Me: Umm, Hi! Umm, OHMYGOD ABIGCHUNKATOOTHJUSTFELLOUTOFMYHEAD WHATDOIDO IEEEEEEE!?!?!

Jamie: OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!

Me: IKNOOOOOW!

Jamie: ?!!?!?!?!

Me: !!!!!!!

Jamie: You'd seriously better do something about that!

Me: ?!?!?!
...
Okay, bye!

(click)

Me: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

So then, following some more generalized hysterical freaking out, it hit me: gee, maybe I should call one of those dentist people! Because, duh, dealing with this sort of thing is kind of their speciality, right? After a frantic search through MetLife Dental's Online Provider Registry, I finally picked a dentist by way of the following discerning criteria: 1) The musical quality of the doctor's name (McMenamin... Oooh, I like the way that rolls off the tongue!), 2) The proximity of the doctor's office to our local Target (One block? PERFECT!), and 3) The gender of the doctor (my preference being for a female, as I somehow imagined myself less likely to kick a woman in the nuts when they accidentally drill into a facial nerve).

Then I called the office.

(ring, ring)

Dentist's Office Person: Doctor McMenamin's Office, how may I help you?

Me: Umm, Hi! Umm, OHMYGOD ABIGCHUNKATOOTHJUSTFELLOUTOFMYHEAD WHATDOIDO IEEEEEEE!?!?!

Dentist's Office Person: OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!

Me: IKNOOOOOW!

Dentist's Office Person: You'd seriously better get in here today and have that looked at. How does 2:30 sound?

Me: You sound concerned. NOWIAMREALLYFREAKINGOUT.

Dentist's Office Person: See you at 2:30!

Me: ?!?!?!
...
Okay, bye!

(click)

Me: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

Oddly enough, I wasn't in any pain. YET.

But then I walked into the dentist's office, and they took one look in my mouth, and everyone's brows furrowed.

Uh-oh.

And then they poked me with needles full of anesthetic until the entire left side of my face was grotesquely numb and droopy (though I should add it took a trial-and-error multiple course of shots to the mouth before I was actually completely numb. On three separate occasions she'd start drilling only to have me bolt up in the chair, shocked by the pain, waving my hands frantically in her face and mumbling through triangle-shaped gauzy pads that Mmm mot mummbd! Mo mo mo! (translation: I'm not numb! No no no!) Yeah, that was a LAFF RIOT).

The upshot of all this? I need a root canal.

The other upshot? Drilling into a person's skull REALLY FUCKING HURTS.

Before I left her office, Musical McMenamin packed the hole in my head full of some sort of dental cement to temporarily plug-things-up -SLASH- hold-things-together-in-there, and referred me for The Dread Root Canal with a nearby Endodontist on Monday morning, AND MY HEAD FEELS LIKE ITS BEING CRUSHED IN A VICE AND MY MOUTH IS AN UNSERVICEABLE CHASM OF SEARING PAIN AND AGONIZING TORMENT. No, seriously, you have no idea. Even Tylenol with codeine is only serving to very mildly cut the pain. Not good, people.

Right. So the next three days are going to be fun. Oh no, wait -- what I meant to say is that the next three days are going to SUCK FLAMING COW DUNG. Anyone wanna come over and gently stroke my hair while I lay my head in your lap and loudly weep? Anyone?

[Originally posted January 11, 2007]

I'm being punished. I don't know by whom, or why, but that I'm being punished is clearly the case.

Wednesday started off at a crippled, limping pace. I'd just spent three days nursing my child back to pre-Pink Eye levels of health, and felt completely washed-out, burnt-out, and out-of-sorts. As I sat at my desk in front of the computer, letting the warm flow of information from the interwebs wash over me, I shifted my jaw slightly and felt this weird, well, crunch. Funny, there was something in my mouth. And I hadn't been eating. WHAT IN GOD'S NAME IS GOING ON IN THERE?

I pushed my tongue around and fished out the object. It was a frighteningly large piece of tooth.

And here's where the fun begins.

First of all, need I even say how grossed out I was by this discovery? Yeah, I thought not.

Second of all, oh my god, what do you even do? I sat there for a few minutes, just staring at this jagged tooth shard, in some sort of horrified, paralytic daze. Then I thought: Self, you need to call Jamie. He'll know what to do.

Our conversation went a little something like this:

(ring, ring)

Jamie: Hello?

Me: Umm, Hi! Umm, OHMYGOD ABIGCHUNKATOOTHJUSTFELLOUTOFMYHEAD WHATDOIDO IEEEEEEE!?!?!

Jamie: OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!

Me: IKNOOOOOW!

Jamie: ?!!?!?!?!

Me: !!!!!!!

Jamie: You'd seriously better do something about that!

Me: ?!?!?!
...
Okay, bye!

(click)

Me: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

So then, following some more generalized hysterical freaking out, it hit me: gee, maybe I should call one of those dentist people! Because, duh, dealing with this sort of thing is kind of their speciality, right? After a frantic search through MetLife Dental's Online Provider Registry, I finally picked a dentist by way of the following discerning criteria: 1) The musical quality of the doctor's name (McMenamin... Oooh, I like the way that rolls off the tongue!), 2) The proximity of the doctor's office to our local Target (One block? PERFECT!), and 3) The gender of the doctor (my preference being for a female, as I somehow imagined myself less likely to kick a woman in the nuts when they accidentally drill into a facial nerve).

Then I called the office.

(ring, ring)

Dentist's Office Person: Doctor McMenamin's Office, how may I help you?

Me: Umm, Hi! Umm, OHMYGOD ABIGCHUNKATOOTHJUSTFELLOUTOFMYHEAD WHATDOIDO IEEEEEEE!?!?!

Dentist's Office Person: OHMYGODOHMYGODOHMYGOD!

Me: IKNOOOOOW!

Dentist's Office Person: You'd seriously better get in here today and have that looked at. How does 2:30 sound?

Me: You sound concerned. NOWIAMREALLYFREAKINGOUT.

Dentist's Office Person: See you at 2:30!

Me: ?!?!?!
...
Okay, bye!

(click)

Me: FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!

Oddly enough, I wasn't in any pain. YET.

But then I walked into the dentist's office, and they took one look in my mouth, and everyone's brows furrowed.

Uh-oh.

And then they poked me with needles full of anesthetic until the entire left side of my face was grotesquely numb and droopy (though I should add it took a trial-and-error multiple course of shots to the mouth before I was actually completely numb. On three separate occasions she'd start drilling only to have me bolt up in the chair, shocked by the pain, waving my hands frantically in her face and mumbling through triangle-shaped gauzy pads that Mmm mot mummbd! Mo mo mo! (translation: I'm not numb! No no no!) Yeah, that was a LAFF RIOT).

The upshot of all this? I need a root canal.

The other upshot? Drilling into a person's skull REALLY FUCKING HURTS.

Before I left her office, Musical McMenamin packed the hole in my head full of some sort of dental cement to temporarily plug-things-up -SLASH- hold-things-together-in-there, and referred me for The Dread Root Canal with a nearby Endodontist on Monday morning, AND MY HEAD FEELS LIKE ITS BEING CRUSHED IN A VICE AND MY MOUTH IS AN UNSERVICEABLE CHASM OF SEARING PAIN AND AGONIZING TORMENT. No, seriously, you have no idea. Even Tylenol with codeine is only serving to very mildly cut the pain. Not good, people.

Right. So the next three days are going to be fun. Oh no, wait -- what I meant to say is that the next three days are going to SUCK FLAMING COW DUNG. Anyone wanna come over and gently stroke my hair while I lay my head in your lap and loudly weep? Anyone?

[Originally posted January 11, 2007]