Thursday, April 9, 2009
Steven had to have a very unplanned surgery Tuesday afternoon to remove a cracked tooth. He initially cracked the tooth back in September, while we were at the ER with Arissa and her appendix. He had gone to Wendy's to grab us some supper and he bit into something hard in his burger. Unfortunately, when it happened we were in the middle of an IV crisis with Arissa and there were a bunch of people in the room so he was very quiet about the whole thing. This is unfortunate b/c in his effort to not cause a distraction, he didn't dig through what was in his mouth and find the object. Apparently, this makes all the difference when filing a claim with a restaurant. They only compensated us a small portion of what the total cost of extraction and replacement would be. As usual, the squeaky wheel gets the grease and his tooth wasn't bothering him so those funds went elsewhere. (I am getting to the point of the story. Promise)
Fast forward to Sunday morning.....he got off work and was going to pick up his Mom to take her to church. He stopped at McDonald's to grab an egg sandwich and he felt like he was chewing on shells and he was convinced there was something lodged in his gums. He tried every dental tool we have, I tried every dental tool we have and he was miserable. He called McDonald's, told them what happened, they told him to go to the ER. (this whole time we are both stunned that this could happen twice in less than a year. Heck, even twice in a lifetime!) He goes to the ER, his tooth is cracked. Nothing they can do. See your dentist ASAP. His dentist was closed Monday and he got in with them Tuesday morning. His dentist broke the news that it was the same tooth as in September, the egg sandwich had nothing to do with it (which means there would be no compensation for the ER visit or the other costs we were getting ready to incur), and the tooth has to come out. He pulled the part of the tooth that was lodged in his gum and got him an appointment that afternoon with an oral surgeon. He called me about 15 minutes after he got there...I'd have to be there. They were putting him all the way under. He'd never been put to sleep before. He was scared to death. He did well and provided quite the entertainment after he woke up. He was pretty stoned until about 830-9 that night. He asked me a million times "what time is it? where am I? how did I get here? is my tooth gone?" He watched Jeopardy and got 99% of the questions wrong (he's usually really good). He asked about his strawberry milkshake. It was vanilla. He bumped into the wall and said he was "fine. I'm fine. just fine." At which point Isaiah looks at me and says "how can he say he's fine and he's running into walls? You know, Mom, you handle your drugs a lot better than he does!" (see prior entries about my ability to seem completely normal and coherent while heavily medicated).
By Wednesday morning he was back to normal. He has had minimal pain and is going back to work tonight. It was really odd to be on the other side of the IV and loopy meds. I will say that I would have much preferred to been on his side. Watching the ones you love scared and in pain is horrible. I can't imagine how he has done it all these years with me.