They're Gone

So, my bastard wisdom teeth that have sabotaged my body for some time now, are finally gone. The drugs have not worn off yet, which is the only reason I'm capable of writing. I'm pretty sure I'm going to feel like hell later on tonight. You know, just in time for not being able to sleep. Who knows, maybe MJ will have one of her sleepless nights and I can talk her ear off (or, mumble it off).

So, here's the best part. I was anxiously awaiting my appointment, and G was getting ready. To go to work. I asked him why he was dressing in khakis and dressy shoes, knowing full well what was up. I said, Do I have to drive myself to the dentist? You know, because one is not supposed to drive after taking Valium. The instructions explicitly said, you must have someone drive you, stay with you, and take you home. He said, Am I supposed to be staying home today? Hmph. At once, I expected it, and was astonished. I made the appointment, what, a month or more ago? I told him I would need a ride, and that the dentist recommended I have help with the kids for a WEEK. In fact, today they told me to lift no more than 5lbs for 7-10 days. Now, I didn't expect him to stay home for a week, just a day or two. G, in all his dental expertise, told me I only needed one day (the day of). He told me he figured I'd made other arrangements, you know, that my mom or someone would take me. I guess he figured they'd be taking care of the kids, too. It blows me away that after supporting someone for ten years, after "holding his hand" through all of his trials, when I need something, I'm just someone else's problem (or my own prolbem). Mind you, he did stay home--what else could he do? It's a little late to stray off course, an hour before the appointment. I could have called a cab. Probably should have. He has also informed me that he will be going to work as planned tomorrow. Nevermind that I will be taking oxycodone and motrin, a steroid, and an antibiotic. Nevermind that kids will need to be lifted, changed, bathed, fed, etc. So, I sit here spitting blood, and my feelings are hurt. He's going to feel it's a betrayal that I wrote this, if he ever does read it...but oh well. It's therapeutic to document my life. I understand that he has things to do. He has deadlines, he has appointments. But people-family-are the only thing in this world that truly matter. We used to be on the same page about that, or at least I thought.

At any rate, I do have an excellent dentist. He did a great job, and he was fast, gentle, efficient, and comforting. I'd recommend him to anyone. I will admit that I was a wuss about it, but I tried to be brave. He assured me that I would be fine, and I am. Now I just have the hard part...the healing, while having to run a house and take care of three kids. Please God, no dry socket. Work is going to give me hell if I call out after my sick leave, but right now, I really don't care. The best part about this whole thing is, I never have to do this again. Thank you Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, and all the Saints. And thanks to my mom and my sister (my blood sister, and those who are not related), because they always pull for me. No nachos for me for a while, but with any luck, I'll be relatively normal in a couple of days. Good times, good times.