Better Than The Doctor

Yesterday we went to the dentist to have two of Mark's teeth pulled.  They were fused to the bone.  In the lottery of teeth placement, our children lost.  Adam and I have some crazy teeth genes.

I was dreading the visit.

I knew it would be awful.

As much as they try at the dentist to make it a serene experience, it was awful. (And they really try:  they don't give shots, they put "sleepy juice" by the teeth; they don't pull teeth, they "wiggle" teeth; and there is no blood, it's either "juice"--which seems worse to me-- or "the red stuff.")

When we left, Mark had a mouth full of gauze and fire in his eyes.  He gets mad when he's hurt.

Quite mad.

He had to keep the gauze in for 30-45 minutes and he was not supposed to rinse or spit so clots would form.  I managed to keep the gauze in but there was an abundance of "the red stuff" still.  More gauze.  More anger.  I tried to distract him with funny youtube videos.  I tried to get him to pick a good movie on Netflix to watch.  When he was getting almost hysterical, I told him to squeeze my hand.

nevermindletgoOFMYHAND!!!

Ouch.

He's strong and I wanted to keep my thumb.

We tried taking the gauze out again and he spit in the sink (against my admonishment) and we were back to square one with "the red stuff".  I was getting a little frantic with my flailing strong red head who was tired of me and tired of bleeding and tired of hurting.  I did what I would normally do in such instances, I called Adam.

Because he's busy at work and 25 miles away.

I'm logical like that.

He was interviewing someone and promised he'd call me back.

When he did, I burst into the tears that had been simmering all morning through the trepidation of Mark climbing into the dentist chair, to the loud crack when the teeth came out to the frenetic staunching of the blood.

Sheesh.  What a morning.

Jill called on my other phone to check on Mark/me while I was on the phone with Adam.  (Jill sort of dodged a bullet not getting me before Adam.)

Everything, including Mark, calmed down.  I plied him with pudding and ice cream and tylenol with codeine.  He's feeling better.  He has puffy cheeks and is a little surly, if not entirely rude, but he'll survive.

When we were leaving yesterday morning, he told me, the dentist is better than the doctor.  I was thinking about that and he's right.

And I feel a little ashamed.

I have three healthy children.

I was a wreck after one morning and some mothers have very ill children.  My heart goes out to them.  And my prayers.