My tooth hurts. Yeah, it’s been hurting for about a month and a half. You know how we Moms are, last on the priority list not daring to add another appointment to our already jam-packed lives.
On our weekend getaway when T.Puzzle vomited his body weight, Mad Dog noticed I was using a tooth-paste for sensitive teeth. He said enough is enough; you are going to the dentist. Oh, joy.
Mad Dog took the initiative to track down a dentist and get all our insurance ducks in a row. He is a task-master this one is. One of the many reasons I love him. It can also be slightly annoying when you are desperately refusing to believe you are in need of immediate dental attention. I don’t like the dentist. The only one who enjoys it in our family is Full Speed. He likes that you get a new toothbrush when you are finished.
How, you may ask yourself, in the middle of all this dental hi-jinks, could I possibly be sad and miss my Mom? It is bizarre the way that your grief keeps itself quietly in your pocket and then jumps out and yells, “Surprise, you are no where near feeling normal and whole again, my dear!” Then it slips into dormancy waiting for the next moment you smugly believe you are doing okay.
My wisdom teeth are whack. So much so, that I had three employees of the dental facility make a stop in my room to say, “We have never seen the likes of wisdom teeth like yours before.” For real.
Not only are my wisdom teeth embedded deep in my gums (likely to never surface), they are perpendicular to my molars. They also tilt down a bit appearing as if they are aiming to crash into my jaw bone. They don’t cause me pain but have forced my gums to configure in an odd way forming pockets that are prone to infection. This is most likely what is causing the sensitivity in my molar region. Hopefully, a thorough cleaning and pricey mouthwash that is so magical, you can only purchase it at your dentist’s office (of course) will do the trick. So three hours (thank God for Mad Dog’s Mom who watched Full Speed who was still home from school with a low-grade fever) and nearly two-hundred dollars later (I would have much rather spent that at a spa!), I was ready for clearance.
Do you know who else had freakish wisdom teeth? My Mom. She had the exact same oddity where they never surfaced and jutted perpendicularly up against her molars. They never caused her too much of a problem either.
I take that back, they did cause me a problem today. They reminded me of the loss of my Mom. Luckily, when a tear of sadness formed in the corner of my eye, I was able to put it off as a tear of physical pain. You know how hygenists can be. Even though mine was a perfectly lovely woman, she wielded her metal hooks and probes like a ninja warrior.
I’m not upset that I imperfectly inherited my Mom’s wisdom teeth or that they reminded me of my loss; I’m actually kind of grateful. It’s another physical token that I am my Mom’s girl. I am always going to be her girl. That makes me smile, whack teeth and all.