Monday, November 17, 2008

Woe is....Us

The soon to be royal tooth [we prep for a Crown in December...sounds ridiculous, huh?] is simmering down. I'm still convinced the post my dentist put in for the coming crown is a fence post, which he planted firmly on a nerve. Or, it's a telegraph pole and those weird twinges are messages going from I-don't-know to who-knows-where. He mentioned during my last visit that there's a tooth back behind the royal one which will one day have to come out. Huddled in the furthest reaches of my mouth, it's an odd hybrid. I swear I'm a grown up, but I don't have wisdom teeth. Before everyone laughs and leaps to the same conclusion concerning my brain power, allow me to explain. Please. My ego can't take much more.

I never cut my 12 year old molars. When I was 19, four teeth start coming in. They hurt like the devil and I thought, "Great, here come the dreaded wisdom teeth." Seemed like a design flaw actually, to have four extra teeth that come in painfully and that 9 out of 10 folks have to have pulled because there is just no room for them. I was in college at the time and helping a former next door neighbor's husband at his dental practice, playing receptionist and general lackey. I was hurting so bad he took x-rays. Ironically, one of my duties was to develop the x-rays. He checked them, only to advise I was one of the lucky ones. Funny, pain didn't feel lucky. He then went to great lengths to explain to me how some fortunate souls, like myself, didn't even have the buds for wisdom teeth. I would never have to deal with them.

So what WAS I dealing with? I asked as politely as possible.

It seems my new teeth were either too late or too early. The front half was built like a 12 year old molar should appear, with the back half....yep, looking rather wisdom like. He was fascinated and kept checking them. About the time I was wishing for a flip top head, he stepped back and grinned. I inquired if this was a problem and he reassured me that it wasn't and the pain would subside if I took aspirin.

Then with a twinkle in his eye he added, "Your only problem is that you're dentally retarded."

That description has come in handy over the years, especially when I changed from childhood dentist to a not-so-great-one to the current comedian who holds many degrees.

At first it was a little unnerving when my dentist, Gee, would get a gleam in his eye as he discussed my dental woes. Then I realized he just likes challenges. I seem to have been handcrafted just to keep him amused. He said that back tooth, the last of it's kind by the way, may be the first time he suggests I let him put me out. I've seen the x-ray. It's not pretty.

Cue Bugs Bunny and that ridiculously large mallet used in cartoons to make people see stars. Or birds. But not today.

No, this weekend was spent worrying over our eldest four legged wonder, Smokey. When he was a young dog, he flew through the air like the Michael Jordan of doggie world, snatching Frisbees out of the atmosphere with amazing finesse. He's ten years old now but still has the spunk of a puppy when something interests him. For him to lie down and just whine was weird. He was eating, nothing odd was coming out of him and yet Smokey would lie on the floor and whine. Hubby took him to the vet Friday. Smokey didn't have any terrible diseases and the Vet agreed it was probably his shoulder. Like many people, Smokey has a shoulder that goes out from time to time. Naps cure it. So he left the vet's with doggie drugs and a note to tell me to up his Glucosamine to two pills. That would be the same pill hubby takes for his bad knees.

On Saturday I got an inkling that Smokey should be nominated for an Academy Award. Middle of the night, he whined. Just as I had on Friday night, I got up and checked on him. When I came back to bed, hubby asked what was wrong. I replied the kid needed to be rocked to sleep. so I rubbed his belly and he went out like a light. We took turns doing this check, which occurred about every two hours at night. Sunday, I figured it out. Smokey was fine if he woke up from a nap and saw a person nearby. If he didn't, the whining started, a doggie version of "Hey, I don't feel good! Where is everybody?"

The discovery came when we went outside to pick up pecans. The tree out front is so huge everyone thinks it's an oak. The old gal was in rare form again this year and we spent two hours in various poses gathering that crop. And we still didn't get all of it. There are three more trees, one of which is thankfully taking the year off like it's suppose to. Anyone asks for pecans, I'm going to hand them a bag and point.

But I digress.

Smokey had tiptoed down the steps, moaning and groaning the whole way. He kept following us around the yard and was content to snooze in the sun. Until I walked past his field of vision. He woke up, glanced around and started whining. When I suddenly appeared from behind the tree, he quit, tail just wagging. Can you spell m-a-n-i-p-u-l-a-t-e-d?

Sure his shoulder is healing and he's going to feel bad for another week. But yesterday he found a ball in the front yard and handed it over. That's a good sign. This morning he actually picked his head up off the dog bed and wagged his tail when I entered the room. The temperature dropped quite a bit last night so my sinuses were in high gear. Envision an elephant tap dancing on your head and you're close. My "royal" tooth was throbbing, it's retarded sibling was aching just enough to make my ear hurt and every step led to discovering muscles I didn't even know I had prior to pecan picking. Smokey didn't fight me when I sat on the floor next to him and gave him his pill. He put his head in my lap, tailing thumping once in thanks I suppose. And then there was a whine.

What's wrong with him now? hubby had asked. What's he whining about?

It wasn't Smokey. It was me. Trying to rise gracefully from the floor and failing miserably.

And so singing a different version of the Snow White song, [I owe, I owe, it's off to work I go] I left the house. You see today I have to cook 3 turkeys for tomorrow's lunch for the seniors. We do Thanksgiving a week early because some of them have family locally and eating that much turkey in one week is cruel and unusual punishment. And after a year of requests, today is the day a crew is finally coming to refinish the floors. They arrived an hour late, then groused about not being informed about how big the space was...a foyer, hall and Dining Room, not even the entire building. After exerting so much energy complaining, the Foreman declared he would not start before eating, so out the door they went. Fifteen minutes later they returned, where three of them sat in my kitchen and ate. Slowly. They weren't happy to hear I'd have to get back to the kitchen in a couple of hours to rescue the turkeys. I was TOLD when I could utilize the restroom so I wouldn't mess up the first coat of wax. Then a young guy was sent back to tell me he hoped the turkeys were done because they were about to start Round Two and I couldn't walk on the floor for 35 minutes. The Foreman bellowed at me that if I had to go, I'd better go now as my bathroom privileges were suspended for the next half hour.

I have utilized my privilege, rescued the turkeys and am back at my desk. The crew has gone to lunch. I can't go anywhere. No lunch for me. When I finally can leave, it's on to the next Center where the kids have been trying to physically maim one another for over a week.

No, I did not whine. It's just the sound I make today when I bend over.


Susan said...

Wow, what a week! I hope it gets better soon.

I just bought pecans in our local supermarket, excited to find them at all and then engrossed for 20 minutes trying to understand which form was cheapest per pound: loose in the shell, or bagged in the shell, or peeled halves, etc. ARGH. Finally came home with the bag of pecans in the shell, about 20 of them, for €3.49, just over $5.


I'm wondering if it's cheaper now, to fly out and visit you and your tree instead! LOL Certainly would be more fun, anyhow.

And, my sympathies to Smokey too: dogs can be such drama queens when they want to.

hope said...

Let's just say I was glad to get home...those kids were in rare form. But the floor looks nice. :)

I almost had a heart attack when I got home and couldn't find Smokey in any of his usual places to nap. Bou was fine, following me around. I grabbed the phone and called hubby. He whispered hello. Now any other woman might get suspicious, I just knew he was in a tree stand hunting and I was intruding. Asked if he had Smokey. No. As I whisper back on the phone, I search the house again. Finally find Smokey next to our bed, with his head under a rocking chair, sound asleep. Sigh.

I'm hoping Turkey Tuesday will be more fun.

Oh, and if I didn't think there were international laws against such, I'd ship you some pecans. Think they're about $5.99 a pound this year. Instead remind me to give you a wonderful recipe for Cinnamon Pecans.

Thanks for your sympathy. Now I can go and read...without whining. ;)

the broken down barman said...

i dont think u understand!!!!! this would have gone down in history along side shakespear and dickens. blogger ate my masterpieces. i know now that am doomed to recycling bin. i will never be published and placed on a shelf beside such luminaries as orwell, pasternak and herge!!!!! oh woe is me