And I feel a little bit guilty because it isn't as though anything is really very bad. I don't have a terminal brain tumor named Timmy, John doesn't have lymphoma, and so far Jude shows no sign of having his sister's asthma.
No, this Bad Day comes down to one little cavity. The cavity that broke the camel's back.
Yesterday morning was wonderful. The kids and I went to visit friends that we hadn't seen in an eon, and had a great time. Unfortunately, though, all good things must come to an end, and we had to get home so I could go get my teeth cleaned. I would have rescheduled, but I already had four times (no exaggeration) so I figured I better keep the appointment.
Put the Judester down for a nap, made sure Sophia and Grammy were all set, and off I went to my dental cleaning appointment. Quick half hour appointment, no biggie.
It was time for my updated x-ray. Fine, super quick add-on in this digital age. Except when the x-ray says that you have a cavity that has to get filled. Today.
Now come on. I admit I did fall off the flossing wagon over Christmas (yes, when you probably need to be doing it the most), but I have been getting back to it, and thought I was doing a decent job taking care of my teeth. I never even had any cavities until after college, but having kids was brutal on my mouth. Seriously, I hadn't heard of pregnancy gingivitis until my mouth started to hemorrhage when I looked at dental floss while preggers with Sophia. Even worse with Jude . . . my gums are still recovering a year and a half later.
So here I am, post-pregnancies, yet another filling to my name. I think this one makes four. Or maybe five. Either way, a number I am NOT pleased about.
The hygienist did the math . . . $35 extra after insurance, 20 minutes more. I said go for it.
My wonderfully thorough hygienist proceeded to numb me up with enough novocaine that I was still drooling as I drank my afternoon coffee four hours later. Not that I am complaining! I would much rather be over-numb than under-numb. Especially when Dr. D started grinding away a giant portion of my back left molar.
Don't you hate to hear "Hmm" come out of a dentist/doctor/plumber/electrician's mouth? It always means bad news. In this case it meant that the cavity was bigger than he initially thought. Time to grind thru the front of the tooth and empty the wallet a little more. More grinding, more burning bone taste . . . the grinding always takes me back to my first time in the OR. The tooth grinding for a cavity smells and tastes just like cutting thru the skull for a craniectomy did. Not that I tasted the guy's skull, but smell is a large part of taste, so my imagination does the rest.
Grinding done, Dr. D slapped in a bunch of whatever that filler is, zapped it with his handy little light, and polished it up a bit.
Except for the jagged little edge on the outside that he didn't see, and that I didn't feel until five hours later when my novocaine wore off. And that I have felt every time food caught on it since, which has been every time I have eaten anything. Especially dried cranberries. I had a little handful of dried cranberries for a snack today, and every one of those little suckers got caught on that tiny little jagged edge. Even the ones I chewed on the right side of my mouth . . . somehow they jumped right over to the other side just to torment me a little more.
Being the weekend, there isn't much I can do about it except be annoyed.
All in all, I guess it doesn't seem worthy of being a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day, except that it started off the next 24 hours with a bang. Since then Sophia has enjoyed saying "no" more in one day than in all of her life previously, the cashier at Joann's commented (when I finally got to her) that it looked like Black Friday because there were so many customers, and my only accomplishments of the day today are the following:
1. Finishing washing yesterday's dishes.
2. Putting a load in the washer . . . now to get it into the dryer.
3. Getting Sophia's hair pulled back into a ponytail. Sort of.
4. Re-making a pair of pants that I had already made once but were too big.
Breaking not just one, but two of my sewing machines. I have three, but use them all for different things, and having even one out of commission is crazy frustrating. I guess the cavity just started the cascade . . . the sewing machines were really what broke this camel's back.
Like I said, nothing tragic. Just annoyances, really. So now it's time to re-set. And I'm thinking that re-set is two-fold. Part one, thanking God for what I do have . . . lots of teeth that don't have any cavities, one fully functioning serger sewing machine, and a handy brother that can probably fix the other two. Part two, some takeout from the Gridiron, like maybe a reuben sandwich and jalapeno poppers. Or perhaps some sweet potato fries if they have them . . . sweet potato fries can fix pretty much anything.
I'm off to the Gridiron!