I have an app on my laptop and correspondingly on my phone that helps me hold a to-do list. I like it very much, with the exception of if I don’t remember to open the app, it can’t help me remember to do things. When I was in the thick of having to remember a ton of things–especially when I was out of the house–the app was really good. I still use it occasionally, but my to-do items are not quite as urgent and there aren’t as many to keep track of. I like it mostly because it lets me “check” things off when I’m done and it puts a lovely line through the item. I can also maintain multiple “lists” within the app, which helps me keep the items organized easily.
One of the things on that list–which include items for me and items for my parents and items that Hub has promised to do–was going back to the dentist to deal with my baby toof. It was randomly wiggly and not. I assumed that I’d deal with it after…well, when I had more time. I’ve had that sucker hanging on for 40+ years, I saw no reason to try to squeeze time in for having it pulled, whatever manner that meant for the poor little bugger.
We took Mom to the doctor this morning because I was concerned about her leg. She’s got blood clots in both legs, which means no more lymphedema wrapping for the time being. You can’t put compression on areas that have blood clots. So her leg was looking red and I was getting concerned, so we went in. It was quite an ordeal as Mom is not able to get up on her own anymore. She and my father struggle to get her out of the wheelchair and into the car, and vice versa when we arrive somewhere. The same struggle is there when she gets out of the recliner, off the toilet, etc. She’s started sleeping in a recliner instead of a bed because her cough is so bad she can’t lie down anymore.
After we got home from the appointment and I helped them get settled back into the house, I came home to let the dogs out and and grab some lunch. It was close to 1:30 at that point and I was kinda hungry. I’d thought ahead and eaten a little yogurt and granola this morning so I wouldn’t be starving this afternoon after the appointment. So after I took care of the dogs, I pulled out some leftovers and sat down to eat. And like normal, I was chewing on the opposite side so as not to annoy the baby toof. And as I’m eating, like normal, on nothing terribly interesting or hard, my baby toof finally made the jump. Like nothing was happening, it just squeaked out. I basically spit it into a napkin because it had kind of fallen out of its wedged spot toward my cheek.
The toof is ridiculously small, and the spot it vacated feels ridiculously large. For vanity’s sake, no worries because it’s not visible to the normal eye (I mean, if you want to stare into my yawning mouth you might see it, but otherwise…). But at the moment that this occurred, vanity was not at the forefront…my anxiety was. My fear of there being an empty socket there, just waiting to get infected or get something stuck in it. So once I spit out baby toof, I ran into the bathroom and spit into the sink to make sure I wasn’t bleeding. And then I called the dentist’s office. And oddly, despite what I’ve told you so far, THIS is where it gets weird.
A very nice woman answered the phone (I do like the people at this office for a reason) and asked how she could help me. I prefaced the explanation by telling her who I was and which dentist I see, then told her in very plain words, “My baby toof fell out.” To which she responded, “No it did not!” I was mildly taken aback, then I laughed like a mo’fo. So I told her what had occurred, and she asked if I was in pain or if there was any blood. I said no and no. So she said, “So it just…fell out?” And I said yes, I wasn’t bothering it at all and it just fell out. Her next comment? “Oh my lord I have to go get them to xray my baby tooth again! To make sure it’s not going to just fall out!” I attempted to reassure her that my baby toof had hung in there for 44 years, so she was probably safe (she sounded young). She said she was only a few years behind me…then she yelled at one of the technicians there saying to set up the xray because she needed the tech to xray HER baby toof right when she hung up the phone.
Then she got down to brass tacks with me, asking again if there was pain or blood, and then she said she’d talked to the doctor and call me back. I said no pain, no blood, just freaked out. She said she totally understood and promised to call me right after she talked to the dentist that was in the office today. She said they were completely booked and since I wasn’t technically an “emergency”, they couldn’t just fit me in. Unless the dentist disagreed and wanted to see me, of course.
Really? I get the receptionist who ALSO still has a baby toof as an adult? Apparently, it’s not as unusual as you might think. Anyway, she called me back to say the dentist who owns the practice looked at my last xrays and said “no worries. there’s no socket hole, the tooth was just wedged. she’s fine. tell her not to freak out, just go about her business.” Oh-kay. So I said thanks, told her good luck with her toof. She told me to put mine under my pillow and maybe my husband would give me a nice gift. Then she said they’d be in touch to make an appointment to talk about bridge or implant. I said “Yuh huh” and hung up. Not if I can help it, as I’m not keen on getting an implant and a bridge might ruin the other two perfectly healthy teeth surrounding the empty space.
The good news is, I didn’t panic or have an anxiety attack. I felt mildly freaked, but I can imagine it felt like a normal “freaked out” because I went back to doing what I needed to do. With the exception of eating…I was squicked out so I put the food away. Otherwise, I made phone calls and handled emails and paperwork and the like while I waited for the dentist’s office to call back.
When I went over to my mother’s to check on her, I told her I finally lost my last baby toof and became an adult. She seemed less than amused, but that’s kind of her MO these days.
Quite the day I had, yah? I told one of my brothers that I lost my baby toof–and probably all my magical powers. He told me I was weird.
He’s not wrong.
Also, you’re welcome for not sharing a picture of poor baby toof.