Pass the Heroin, Please

Yesterday started out as a normal enough day. We got up, eat breakfast and then all piled into the van for a trip to the dentist. All 5 of us had appointments to have our teeth cleaned. We take over my dentist's office for a morning every six months. Fun, fun, fun!

Or it was, at least until we arrived and I was reminded that I had a second appointment the following morning to fill a teeny, weeny cavity. Early Alzheimer's sucks.

"But wait....we've had a cancellation. We can do the filling after you have your teeth cleaned. Is that O.K. with you, Ashley? It will save you a trip."

"Ummmm (gulp) sure. Sounds great. How long should it take?"

"It's a quick one. Only about 40 minutes."

(sigh) "Cool."

Lairs! Fibbers! Con artists!

After my cleaning I reluctantly moved to Dr. Ron's cubicle and opened wide. And opened wide again. And then one more time.

When I came out of the chair after he started drilling he went in with a final round of Novocaine. There was a total of 18-20 separate pokes into my lower jaw. By the time he started the second time the entire left side of my head was numb. Good thing, too. He ran into a few problems.

Two hours later I stumbled out of the office. I looked like a stroke victim and had to keep wiping the drool off of my chin.

When I got home I fed the kids and then collapsed onto my bed. I could not eat because I could not feel my tongue and did not want to eat it by accident. Or my left cheek. I was able to sleep for an hour which I am sure is the only reason I am still alive and sane....maybe not the sane part.

When I woke up it felt like there was a live electrical wire running from my cheek to my ear. Dr. Ron had warned of possible "mild discomfort" because of the number of times he had to stick the muscle and nerve. I called his office and told his wife, who is his office manager and my friend, that he was full of shit. Mild discomfort, my ass. Being who I am, I laughed with her even though it hurt to talk much less laugh and then I made a huge, monumental mistake. I told her that I did not need any stronger pain relief then Ibuprofen. I played the martyr. A truly dumb ass move.

An hour later I came to my senses and called his emergency number.

"Hi, Dr. Ron? I lied to Anna. I do want drugs. I hurt and I am not strong. I am a week, wimpy woman. Can you call in a prescription to Rite-Aide as soon as possible? They close in half an hour. Pleeeeease.....I'm begging you here. I have no dignity left. HELP ME!"

While I was waiting for him to call back my sister called to check on me. It was a short call and I ended it with a lame attempt at a joke.

"I have to go, Sis. I'm waiting for Dr. Ron to call me back with a prescription for either codeine or heroin." My eldest daughter was standing near by, listening.

When Dr. Ron did call back a short while later she answered the phone.

"Hi Dr. Ron. Yes, Mom is waiting to talk to you. She is hoping you will give her some heroin."

He laughed very hard. I did not. It hurt too much. But this morning it is funny.

The truly sucky part of the whole experience is that I had a bad reaction to the codeine. Yes, I was finally about to open my mouth enough to eat, I just could not lay down. I spent most of the night sitting in a chair waiting for the stupid drug to wear off.

I have decided to get a full set of dentures. They have got to be less trouble then keeping these old teeth in my mouth.

Is it nap time yet?