so this is what it looks like today.. getting better and feeling better — or maybe I’m just so distracted by my latest mouth trauma. I can’t figure out how the doc is going to find the stitches in order to take them out, but my mother, in her infinite wisdom, told me, “that’s their problem!” I’ve got two vicodin left, won’t dare take them — I’m saving one for the removal of the finger stitches, the other for the removal of the mouth stitches. I have no idea of how many stitches are in my mouth. The doc told me “don’t worry, no charge for the additional frenulectomy I had to do.” I would have liked to have said, “don’t worry, I won’t be suing you for not telling me you were going to do a surgical procedure before you did it!!!” But I couldn’t because I had a mouthful of metal instruments stuck down my gullet. I’d post a pic of the mouth but I can’t open it – if I see another container of yogurt, I might barf. But I hope not, since I can’t open my mouth and….I just really grossed myself out. Bleh.
Or tried to — who knew cotton candy could be dangerous? Certainly not I, except that being 99% sugar and 1% various artificial and toxic non-foodstuffs, it will wreak havoc on my teeth, which is a sore spot already (for me, anyway). My kids’ elementary school has an annual fund-raising spring fair. I’ve been in charge of the fund-raising brochure the past few years, which consists of six months of begging friends, family and strangers for money to support the under-privileged children of Scarsdale NY. Hmmm.
1 1/2 hours into my 3 hour commitment and my husband peers into the machine and says, “you’d better be careful — I’m serious!” Ha, ha, ha hubby! you are so funny! It’s a hot, sunny day, long line of kids waiting for their floaty confection, kids asking for change, someone else telling me about why she prefers soda in a can, etc, etc. I spy a big glob of cotton candy at the bottom of the drum which is preventing me from creating the perfect cone of spun sugar joy, so I shove my hand in to pluck it out and AAAAAAAAA!!!!!
yeah — kids traumatized, cotton candy booth shut down, my finger nail ripped off (and then sewn back on), broken finger and nine stitches. Best part: nurse on duty screaming louder than me — “I don’t do emergencies!!!!!! I’m just supposed to treat kids with skinned knees!”
That was Saturday. Today, Tuesday, I had phase two of my gum surgery — skin cut from my palate was grafted onto my lower gums. About a thousand stitches in my mouth. No pain killers to go. I’ve got more stitches than a Raggedy Ann doll, plus all the nerve endings of an almost alive and kicking human being. Good thing hubby bought a case of wine last week.
Don’t get too excited — it’s not what you think. What it is, is my ongoing relationship with all sorts of teeth, gum and jawbone docs. Today, I spent the first of many $1200 installments on gum surgery. First step was cutting the little piece of flesh that connects my lower lip to my lower gums. Apparently, it’s been pulling my gums away from my teeth for 45+ years. Apparently, this is unacceptable and has been the cause of my extremely, super-severe tooth sensitivity which prevents me from eating anything cold, cool or even room temp. The up side? After the snipping and the sewing (12 stitches) my lower lip was slightly swollen, in the most wonderful, puffy and insouciant way. Not quite Angelina Jolie-esque, but most certainly not my usual waspy no lip way. The down side? Once again, I ignored the “surgery” portion of this procedure and didn’t realize how much it would hurt until I started walking back to work and realized that the pain was radiating throughout my body with every footfall. Lucky for me, I had scheduled a full day of meetings. My good judgment shines through again! And what is that little piece of flesh that I just had snipped called?