Saturday, 18 July 2009

• I should have known the day would be bad

  Matt hasn't been around much lately; work has been crazy. With the economy the way that it is, I have learned to be thankful that he has a job and to never complain about his work schedule. It could be far worse. Well, as a result of the crazy hours we haven't had a night out together in more than a month. When he arrived home Wednesday night, he had two Padres tickets in his hand for Thursday's game. I was so excited. Whit agreed to keep the babies and we planned a fun night out. Things didn't go quite as planned.

  First he got stuck in a meeting until almost 5. The game started at 7 and we still needed to get downtown, park, and hopefully grab a meal. I was dressed and ready to go as soon as he got here, but I was starting to get the slightest of toothaches. I had some Tylenol 3 left over from some previous dental work, so I took one and thought that would be the end of it. We made it to our favorite downtown cantina and had a wonderful meal. The only problem was that the medicine had not helped the pain in the least. In fact, my toothache was becoming worse by the minute. We headed to the ballpark to catch the game and I was increasingly worse. By 9 and with the Padres losing; Matt called it a night and took me home.

  I sat up pretty much all night with the pain. I was popping the tylenol 3's like they were candy and mixing them with Naproxin. A totally risky thing to do, but I was seriously dying. I had promised the kids we would head to the swap meet the next morning, so I got up and put on a brave front. The ache had subsided some (either from the OD of the pills or I had just reached the point of not being able to feel it anymore) and off we went. Well, Friday's swap meet was a far cry from Sunday's so we were in and out in less than thirty minutes. By that time the ache was back in full force and I was lashing out at everyone.

  We made it home by 12:45 and I quickly called my dentist. Now, if you read my blog at all, you know I am terrified of dentist and will only go upon pain of death. The fact that I willingly called them should tell you how much pain I was actually dealing with. They close from 1-3 for lunch, but told me to come in right at 3 so they could take a look. I headed over at 3 and by 3:30 the pain was gone and so was the tooth. It was one of my back molars and it needed to come out. I am now highly doped up on Vicodan (which alternates between making me cry and yell) and am a happy girl.

  I hope to write a blog later about my ex husband, but I am afraid to do it now because I tend to let the "f" bomb fly when on Vicodan as well. Poor Matt made the mistake of asking me had I seen the phone last night; it took him almost 15 minutes to get me to stop crying. I still hate the idea of the dentist, but mine is so super sweet that I can't hate him. He got me in right away and handled the matter very quickly because he knows how stressed out I get while sitting in the chair. I think he could have taught my evil pediatric dentist a thing or two about how to deal with people.

  Have a wonderful day.

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