The Chipmunk and the Squirrel

     You know how when people get their tongues pierced, their moms are always like, "you're stupid and you're going to crack your tooth on it and then you'll have to pay to have it fixed!"  Well, in 2001, 4 years after I got my tongue pierced (underaged, using my sister's ID in high school.  When I was signing the waiver, I had to scratch out the first signature I made because I forgot to sign her name.  Turns out I was stupid, just like my mom said, but the artists at Jinx Proof in Georgetown didn't give a care.  Way to mind the law, dudes.  I wonder if they would have cared more if I were getting a tattoo, because tattoos are really permanent, and piercings really aren't.), I cracked my tooth on it, just like my mom said, as I was walking down P street from my job at Soho Tea and Coffee in Dupont.  I was chewing on a caramel, then I was chewing on metal, and cracked half my tooth clean off.  The free half got stuck in the caramel, and it was totally gross.
     I guess I got it fixed soon after, then sometime around 2005, the fix failed, and I had to have it done again.  It was never quite right after that.  It was sensitive to heat, cold, and foods firmer than bread, and from time to time it throbbed for no reason or sent random bolts of pain into my brain.  In 2008, some wisdom teeth were coming in and shifting my choppers around, and it started hurting real bad.  At my emergency dental appointment, the good doctor recommended I have the sucker extracted and he made the referral.  Shortly thereafter, the shifting ended, the pain ended, and my interest in oral health ended.
     Last week, the tooth, whom I had come to know as #3, started aching again, and, wanting to set a good example for my daughter, I decided it was time to exorcise that demon.  I got the referral again, and made an appointment for 3 weeks hence.  I thought if the pain went away again, like it had a few years ago, I would cancel.
     5 days ago, I began waking up with headaches that diminished during the day, but never completely dissapeared.
     3 days ago, I woke up with an awful ache in my jaw, and I ate 25 over the counter analgesic pills.
     2 days ago, it was even worse.  Analgesics no longer working.
     Yesterday, my dentist gave me a prescription for Vicoprofen, a mix of Vicodin and Ibuprofen (yes, like croissandwich, Bennifer, jeggings, and shart) to "tide me over" for the three weeks until my surgery.  My resourceful sister also hooked me up with ballistic 600mg Ibuprofen (which is like Vicoprofen without the Vicodin).  When, last night, for the first time in months, I was not awakened by hungry daughter, but by screaming, throbbing gums, pain radiating to my high cheekbone, and swelling like I was sucking on an everlasting gobstopper, I decided that this was finally a problem that required attention.
     The surgeon took me in for an emergency appointment.  My dutiful mother dropped everything to meet me at the office to mind Temple, who was an excellent baby as always.  I was looking forward to general anesthesia, but because not even the worst toothache in history will keep me from my morning coffee, general anesthesia was counter-indicated.  You have to have an empty stomach.  Instead, they gave me twilight anesthesia, like they used to give to laboring women before the dawn of the epidural.  I guess its that kind that makes you forget the whole thing after, like Sylvia Plath bemoaned in "The Bell Jar," because I don't remember a damned thing.  It was probably like that episode of Mad Men, too.
     My mom drove my groggy ass home, got my prescriptions filled, and brought me some soft foods.  I am adjusting to my new mouthscape.  The good doctor removed the offending molar and all 4 wisdom teeth.  It feels like a city block was razed in there.  I've heard horror stories about recovery from oral surgery, but my mouth hasn't felt this good in years.  Thank you, pain killers.  Thank you, Mom, for making this catharsis possible.  And, you were right about the tongue ring: twelve years later, I did have to pay to have it fixed.  And when I say "I," I mean "you."  Thanks again.
My cheek is still a little swollen, though.  See?