The tooth pain had been ticklish for several weeks and I figured it was time to do something about it before it turned into a total nightmare. Little did I realize that over a long weekend the nightmare would become a classic example of manifest destiny.
Thursday, November 11, 9am
One of the joys of working where I work is Federal Holidays. On such holidays my presence is generally not required at work. So as it turned out on Nov. 11, (Veteran's Day, aka Armistice Day depending on how advanced in age a person is..) I had the day off from work. I had called a local dentist (based on a recommendation from my insurance carrier) and had made an appointment for early the next week- however they said that if there was a cancellation they would call me and get me in sooner if possible. Sure enough- on Thursday morning the phone rang, it was the dentist's office and was told that they could see me right away. Ok- I'm off to the dentist for what I was assuming would be a -scrape tartar off the offending tooth, a rx for some antibiotics and that would be that until such time as an appointment could be made for a long overdue cleaning. The Dr. takes an x-ray, tells me that such and such tooth is in bad shape and should be extracted. Ok- pull the SOB I tell her. She shoots me up with two...only 2 shots of Novocaine (this should have been my first clue...I've been through numerous extractions in my 45 years due to periodontal disease, wisdom teeth, and orthodontics as a kid) and applies the nitrous oxide gas at my insistence. (Like I said, I've been through this before...I know what works, and two shots of novocaine isn't it.) Within a minute, she's got the forceps out and is tugging on the offending tooth. The agony of this has me grabbing at the arms of the chair and making very loud vocalizations. Finally after at least six (I lost count) applications of the forceps the tooth comes out with a sickening crack. My jaw is feeling- well- indescribable. She hands over the tooth wrapped in gauze. (Yes I keep my teeth. Call me weird.) Packs the socket with some gauze and hands me instructions on how to deal with the wound and sends me on my way. No rx for antibiotics considering she said it was infected and no rx for pain, other than advice regarding the use of tylenol, which I might add has never worked for me for even so much as a simple headache.
I return home to Boyfriend who was up for a short visit and plop down on the couch next to him (bless his heart he cradles me in his arms) whereupon I begin to cry due to the stabbing pain radiating into the new wound in my mouth. I compose myself in a few minutes and begin a desperate search through my supply of meds and find my LAST hydrocodone pill from some extraction or PMS cramp episode. Thank You Jesus! I consume said pill and follow it with two tylenol PM. Not that the tylenol is going to do anything it's the diphenhydramine that is gonna knock me out along with the aforementioned narcotic. After about an hour I realize that once these meds wear off, I am going to be in a world of hurt and call dentist back and explain that tylenol just isn't gonna make the grade. She won't do hydrocodone but will do tylenol 3- ok I'm desperate and at least the codeine will kill something or at least make me not give too much of a shit about how much pain I'm feeling.
So Boyfriend and I (he drove as I was in no shape to pay attention to a stop sign, much less anything else.) drive back to dentist office and pick up rx for tylenol 3, head to pharmacy at local grocery store, get some groceries since he decided to make soup, pick up and pay for meds, pay for groceries, and head home. I consume 2 tylenol 3, and pass out on couch. I spend the rest of the evening drugged up on tylenol 3 which did not kill pain but made it possible for me to not give a shit and finally crawl to bed for a restless slumber.
Friday, November 12, 10:30 am
The next day (a day I had requested off so as to make a 4 day weekend- yep gotta love those Federal bennies) I am feeling somewhat more human, but still am feeling the sharp stab of disturbed nerve endings. Boyfriend and I have to drive to the old stomping grounds 4 hours south for family business and he has a couple of gigs- since I'm drugged up- he drives, and I pass out in the car.
6pm
I have a miserable dinner (due to wound in mouth and the noise level which effectively killed any effort of conversation) at a new restaurant with my mother, (remember her? Yep she's getting more and more like her own mother in attitude every passing day) and retire to hotel after a couple of cocktails.
Sat. November 13, 10am
Saturday morning I wake up and realize that something isn't right in my mouth. I feel swelling around a tooth adjacent to the site of the extraction, and I know that this isn't going to be good. I spend the entire day, chewing and sucking on ice chips and eating tylenol 3. By the end of Saturday, I know that Sunday is going to include a trip to urgent care, in search of relief.
Sunday November 14, 10am
Boyfriend loads me into car behind very large acoustic bass violin, (yep, he doesn't play small instruments, thank God he didn't also have the tuba with him) and deposits me at closest urgent care clinic. He leaves to return music instruments to his parent's house with assurances that he will return to urgent care to get me. I am finally seen by a Dr. who's accented English tells me she's from a part of Europe formerly known as the Iron Curtain, (Croatia) and she agrees that yes Houston- you have a problem. She confers with on-call oral surgeon and in short order is writing rx for a large quantity of hydrocodone and some high power antibiotics- and a referral to oral surgery the next day. I'm in tears with happiness and relief that finally someone knows what the fuck they are doing.
Find Boyfriend in waiting area and head for pharmacy to get rx filled. End up at Boyfriend's parent's house where it is announced by him that this is an emergency and I'll be staying with him until visit with oral surgeon the next day. (since we are not married, bunking at his house is not generally smiled upon.) His parents take pity on me and I insist that the couch in the basement will be more than adequate for my current condition, and begin to consume new medications as directed. I also discover that my period has started.
5pm
I am roused from my drugged slumber by my Boyfriend who tells me he is going to go to S---- to sit in with J---but just for a bit and won't be out late since we have to get my butt to oral surgery first thing in the morning. Ok- I pass out again.
Monday, November 15, 1:30am
I awaken to obviously inebriated Boyfriend who has just returned home from S----. Long story about how he saw D---- and D----was plastered and D----, SHE needed a ride home and D----wanted to have one more cocktail so Boyfriend said no problem. I'm drugged out of my mind so very little of this really registers with me (but don't worry it will) and he assures me that he will be awake at 8am to get me to the clinic. I pass out again.
8am
I wake up- realize what time it is and try to wake up snoring Boyfriend. No luck. Call work and inform them that I won't be in today like I planned due to oral surgery. Find his car keys, announce to his unconscious form that I am stealing his car. I emerge from the basement to find his parents in the kitchen looking at me with much concern and I tell them that I am stealing their son's car and that when he does emerge from the basement to let him know that after I get done at the clinic I am going to hunt D--- down and kill her. They give me a pitying look that says- it must be the drugs.
9:30 am
To my surprise I am quickly admitted into the oral surgery clinic where x-rays are shot and I notice that I can barely open my mouth enough to get the film in there to accomplish the task. The Dr. looks things over and believes that there is a bone fragment from the extraction on the previous Thursday still in there! Plus the adjacent tooth that is surrounded by swollen tissue is also in bad shape and will more than likely have to come out at some point- however- for now they are going to numb me up and try to get it drained and cleaned out. OK- I'm good with that, just make it stop hurting- and what's with this swelling that makes it so I can barely open my mouth so you can get a good look at things? I'm set up in a room, shot up with 4 - count em- 4 shots of Novocaine, Nitrous Oxide (again at my insistence- I still know what works) and within about 5 minutes I can't feel a fucking thing. Tears of relief course down my cheeks- much to the concern of the assistants who I try to assure that this is a good thing. The Dr. begins his draining of the affected area and then announces that maybe this tooth should come out now as the odds of this never happening again with this tooth are slim and zero- I say- go ahead- pull the fucker. He shoots me up with yet another shot of Novocaine and begins to pull- I don't feel shit. In fact what I can feel is the certain knowledge that when this is over I'm gonna be a much happier person- because I am now totally exhausted from dealing with the pain. The tooth comes out with a resounding crack and I feel more digging (minus the agony of the first extraction) hear some grinding, and the announcement to me that he can see my sinus membrane and thankfully it looks to be intact, and he removed several chunks of root-tips from this extraction as well as the previous one. More tears of joy at the prospect that soon my troubles will be over. Finally stitches, gauze wads and instructions regarding pain medication, antibiotics and no smoking. More tears of happiness, hugs to the assistants who told me I made their day...they love pus... and a drugged stagger out the door and back to the Boyfriend's house.
11am
I am greeted by the Boyfriend's parents who are shocked at my physical condition. (It really wasn't that bad- but the wad of gauze on one side of my face must have made it look like I had the mumps.) I am also informed that yes- Boyfriend did emerge from the basement after I left and quickly retreated back to the basement. I find him in the basement asleep in the recliner. I poke him and make a gesture that resembles a pencil being broken in half- he smiles at me like I'm kidding- I'm not- but all I want to do is eat drugs and pass out. I take a pain pill and pass out on the couch.
At various points during the next 6 hours I wake up and see the Boyfriend still asleep in the recliner. At 6 pm I get up, gather my things and inform him that it's time I caught a train back north. He complies and soon I have train ticket and the next hour is spent with him not saying a word to me and me not saying a word to him. Train arrives, a hug is given and goodbye's are said, along with his assurance that he will call me the next day to see how I am faring. I have decided at this point that I want nothing to do with him ever again and visions of film noir ingenues leaving for Siberia fill my head. I arrive 5 hours later to my apartment where I shower and hit my bed.
Tuesday, November 16, 7:30 am
I awaken and feel 200 percent better than I have in days, but still exhausted. I go to work, tell the bosses of my harrowing past 5 days. By 11 am though, I know I'm not in any shape to make it the rest of the day and I am told to go home and get some rest. I do. The phone shows no calls from anyone.
11:30 am
I send nasty text message to D---letting her know exactly what I think of her drunk ass.
4pm
I receive a call from a mutual friend who wants to know what is up with D----and why I am upset with her. I send back text reply that states that I have no desire to talk to D-- about anything but have no hard feelings toward the mutual friend. More messages back and forth including allegations of former boyfriends infidelity- and agreements are made to meet up with mutual friend the next time I'm in town. The phone is quiet for the rest of the night.
Wednesday, November 17
Make it though an entire day at work and am feeling more like my old self. Have decided to not answer any calls from former Boyfriend (my feelings) and get on with my life as I am tired of waiting for him to get his ass up here like he promised he would do back in July. Over the course of the evening 3 messages are left on the phone by the (in my mind) former Boyfriend.
Thursday, November 18
2 more messages are left on the phone by former Boyfriend.
Friday, November 19, 5:30 pm
I call the former Boyfriend and let him have it with both barrels. He doesn't want to argue over the phone. I tell him that I'm not arguing, but if he wants to hang out in his parent's basement, and party with the local slut he's more than welcome but that he should get with W- and take some lessons on how to blow sunshine up peoples' arse because he really sucks at it. He denies being with the slut- but I inform him of the text messages I received detailing the events of the previous Sunday night and that allegations were made that he'd been banging on the slut's window late at night to party with her. He again denies the allegations and informs me that he will get to the bottom of it and that he loves me and wants to be with me. I'm still pissed off and tell him that I don't trust him and that it's up to him to figure out how to resolve this mess because I'm sick and tired of being screwed over. End of conversation.
Several days later he calls and tells me that he will be coming up for Thanksgiving. I tell him I won't be here. He calls later to tell me that he won't be coming up for Thanksgiving because he has a gig. I tell him fine. I'm coming down, I'll be at N- to sing with H- and he can do what he pleases.
Wednesday, November 24, 10pm
I have arrived safely to town, checked into my hotel and have parked myself on a bar-stool at N- and am waiting to hear H- play the blues, and possibly sing a tune. At 10:30 former Boyfriend arrives with acoustic bass and parks himself next to me. An uneventful conversation takes place and more details are filled in. I am informed that he has informed D---to stay away from him and me and once again tells me he loves me and wants to be with me. I realize that between the abscessed teeth, large quantities of pain killers, PMS and an impending full moon on the 21st of November, it's no wonder I snapped and he got the full load of hormonal, celestial wrath from a woman who's nickname is Mean J____ (I'm sure you can figure it out.) As the night progresses, Boyfriend finally sits in with H for a few tunes and has a wonderful time. ( I can tell just by the look in his eyes when he plays.) He is happy, I am drunk and we both return to the hotel where we pass out. All is forgiven. At some point in the evening thereafter a romantic interlude takes place and he asks me three times if I would marry him. Three times I say yes. (Figuring that this will all be forgotten later in the morning as we attempt to sober up and make it to Thanksgiving dinner at his Sister's house.)
12 noon Thanksgiving day
As we drive to his Sister's house for dinner I ask him if he was really serious about the getting married part and he answers with just one word, "Yup." Sober Swedes aren't much for conversation.
"When are you going to drop the bomb on everyone then?" I ask.
"After dinner I suppose."
"You gonna call E-?" I ask. (E- is his daughter, 20 years old and back in Idaho with her Mom since she decided that college in WI wasn't her thing.)
"Yup."
Ok- I guess that settles it. I'm engaged. Yes- he told the family after dinner, called his daughter and told her, (she proceeded to make it clear that she wasn't happy about it). The rest of his family seemed thrilled. I called my Mom and told her, and she wasn't very excited about it either. Oh well- I'm 45-and it is going to be my life to screw up and Lord knows I've done a bang up job of screwing up so at least I can say I am consistent when Judgment Day arrives. And like the song between Tevya and Golde- Do I love him? Yes, I suppose I do. :)
1 comment:
Sooo happy for you!!!!
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