Wisdom in a Tooth

This past week has been one of the most stressful OF MY LIFE. I have had to take sleeping pills at night and anxiety meds during the day. 'Functioning' barely describes my clawing around on my furniture trying not to have a panic attack and writhing in pain because I have needed a root canal for ..... well..... a while now. 

Wednesday.  7 am.  In a sleep stupor, I manage to get ahold of my guardian angel, my MIL. I somewhat successfully tell her I am dying and I need her to take the kids to Mama Jessi's.  

She floats in the house and effortlessly cares for my poor children. Once we establish that I need immediate medical assistance for my MOUTH, she uses her magical phone contacts and as I projectile vomit (pain can do that to a person) for the fourth time that morning, she whisks us off to the babysitters. 

I have two sleeping pills and one anxiety pill into system. No sleep. No food.  I look like a homeless, jumbo sized toddler, with swear pants, Uggs, and a blankie in the front seat of her car. 

Dentist office number one is in Sapulpa.  Not quite down the street. They poke and prod my mouth. I moan and suppress vomit. No one will give me a root canal because they are afraid I won't be numb enough. No one can get a gold it an oral surgeon to do it 'til next Wednesday- maybe'. I lie there, half asleep, half calm. And I wait to die. Luckily my MIL is a sound, smart woman who took excellent care of me.  Toodles dentist office number one. 

Off to Broken Arrow.  I nap. I think. Somehow I acquired a bottle of water.  And a lisp. I feel like I'm going on a car ride. Like a dog. Just happy to be out of the house. But I can't comprehend much more. 

Specialist in Broken Arrow. Their office is much more relaxing and mommy of the day can sit in a nice chair next to me as I drool into my little bib and nod off. They numb me. Gas me. Root canal me. And discuss the absurdist oral surgeon of Tulsa who also does  'boob jobs'. EEEEK! Amidst my my drooling mumbles Dr. Miracle Worker knows I don't believe him. He actually pages his front desk girl to google it. 

In my not so logical brain I want to work for this man all the time alway. I love to google. And he is ridiculous on every cool level. That's what my happy brain on laughing gas thinks.  

The lovely girl prints off this guys website and I almost choke on the abundant mouth scrapers and drills in my face. It's. Real. 

Shortest root canal ever- 45 minutes, and MIL helps me sit up. 

 So dang numb I cannot feel my right eye blink. My logic self panics but my high on life and lorazepam self sits back and laughs with half a functioning face. This is going to be a fun afternoon. 

I all but float out the door. We head to sonic because I have decided I need a root beer float before we head to the pharmacy. 

Apparently laughing gas. Ambien, and lorazepam are quite a fun mix. We take an extensive tour of the lawn and garden area of Walmart where I believe I personally 'sample' each and every one of their lawn chairs and chaise lounges. Whilst 'gracefully' slurping down a float. Giving detailed reviews of most chairs. Life is good. 

MIL helps me fill my pain RX, let's make another pill cocktail (JOKING)!

I didn't even make it out of the parking lot  before I was out again. MIL picks ups kids and we head back home. We have literally driven like 45 miles today. And I notice the freckles I get on my face when I blow capillaries from vomiting. Good day. 

Husby medicates me and whisks me off to bed. Elmo senses my need of him all up in my face and he snuggles. And I sleep a wonderful, uninterrupted sleep. 

Praise God for root canals. And MILs. And root beer floats. 

What do pills make you do?

XOXO Summer