Week of Insanity

This week has been insane. So incredibly nuts. We haven't experienced sickness this severe since we got married. There is some light at the end of the tunnel, we think, but man oh man...this week has been a hum-dinger.

It all started a week and a half ago. A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away I was a young teenage girl who didn't take care of her teeth. I will spend the rest of my life paying for it. Be mean to your children, friends. Force them to brush and floss their teeth. Watch them when they are teenagers if you have to. Do it.

So, as I was saying, as a young teenager I didn't take care of my teeth. When I was 19ish years old I had to have a root canal. In my defense, there were some other major factors at work, but anyway. Root canal. It wasn't bad. I went on with my life. I sort of learned my lesson.

Fast forward 8 years to my first dental appointment in 6 1/2 years. Dentist takes x-rays. Dentist finds cavities because I haven't been to dentist. Dentist also says root canal is re-infected. Say what?

Dentist tells me that he can see that the root is infected. And from looking at the x-ray, he says, "The first guy didn't do a very good job." Awesome. $1200 mistakes are GREAT when you are in debt. He tells me that the tooth might have to be extracted. I freak out.

All of this happens right before Christmas. My consult with the root canal dentist isn't scheduled until late January. Heaven help my husband who had to listen to me freaking out for over a month. He should be canonized. Or something.

So the dentist-man says that he can fix it. For $1285. Or we can pull it. Which is cheaper, but I am 27 years old AND the re-do isn't my fault. But I'm not a person who sues people for malpractice, so I bite the bullet.

I get the re-root canal a week and a half ago. It isn't so bad, except when the dentist gets in there and says, "The last guy did a ****** job." He was ticked, to say the least. He was mad FOR me. That isn't good, people. I leave the office, numb, but glad that my tooth has survived.

I am fine until Friday night, the night we headed to Homer so Kennan could meet with his potential future boss to talk details. She puts us up in a B and B. She says we can have supper and breakfast on her tab. We are excited. I pack things. We get there and as we are eating dinner my tooth starts feeling like it is lighting my face on fire. I flip out and take a pile of ibuprofen and put ice on my mouth. So much for a romantic getaway. No romance. Just pain and tears.

Kennan goes to meeting. Meeting goes well. Tooth continues to hurt.

On Sunday I feel pain like I have never felt in my life. I said to Kennan that I wish it was childbirth because at least there would be an end to the pain - or something good to come of it. I cried a lot. My father-in-law prescribed pain medications. They didn't work at all.

On Monday Kennan took off of work because I couldn't do anything. I couldn't sleep or move. We called the dentist and scheduled an appointment. Dentist prescribed major pain-killers, was horrified at the pain I was in, but calmed me down and told me that this wasn't a sign that the root canal didn't work.

Pain meds then make me vomit. Until Wednesday. But without them I can't even see straight. I chose puking. I never thought I would have to make that kind of choice.

Kennan went to work on Tuesday and told his boss that we're moving. Yep, right here in the middle of sickness trauma you get the big news. We're moving to Homer.

Wednesday Kennan woke up sick. He's been horribly sick ever since. He has the actual flu. You know, the cough junk up, achy body, blow your nose, can't breath, fever sick. He doesn't work the rest of the week. So he quits his job then doesn't go back. Sort of funny, in retrospect.

On Thursday I was able to eat without pain and only took minor pain meds. It was like a miracle to eat non-soft food. On Friday I began to feel feverish. Now I think I have the beginnings of the flu.

Where is the love?

The love is here: We're happy, we're moving, we're excited. Even in the midst of the most awful sick week of our married lives. Kennan and I are getting sick of each other. I've never seen him this sick in my life. It hasn't been fun. At times I thought maybe it was a sign from above that we aren't supposed to move, but Kennan says I'm nuts. So I guess we're going.

Aren't you glad you read this story? :)