Do you believe in déjà vu? What about foreshadowing? Do you think the universe sends us signs?
I believe all three happen.
And I believe this was a GIANT warning.
To tell the story I have to go back about a month or so. I woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and dropped a few dozen cusses.
I looked like I had tucked a golf ball in my jaw. Which, since that's not really possible, was a pretty awkward sight. My jaw was swollen like WOAH and there was no denying that a tooth was to blame. I was supposed to have gotten a root canal on it a while ago, but then I had grown annoyed with the dentist who often takes on a condescending tone in my presence. So. I just didn't go.
(The most recent time I had gone was when I was a few weeks pregnant with Mila. I knew I was pregnant but wasn't telling anyone, but then he went to whip out the x-ray machine and I was all WOOOOAH STAAAAHP. Long story short, his reaction when I said "I'm pregnant" was of such a tone that I wanted to reply, "It's not yours, man. Relax." I've been annoyed with him since and on the hunt for a new dentist.) (Priorities, man. I don't really put "find person who drills teeth" at the top of my list.)
ANYWAY.
The only thing to do when you're packing a golf ball is to call and get an appointment. Alas, my dentist's office was closed when I first tried to call and then couldn't take me for two days and blah, blah, blah. GIANT GOLF BALL ON MY JAW. I knew for a fact that the tooth was infected and that a round of antibiotics were needed before the root canal happened anyway, so I took advantage of a really awesome thing I get through work. It's called Teledoc (this isn't sponsored or anything -- I really do think they rule).
Teledoc is exactly what it sounds like -- you can use the telephone to talk to a doctor. The doctor will ask a bunch of questions and then give you advice. For example, if you have a sinus infection, you can talk your way through that and end up with a prescription without actually setting foot in your PCP's office. It's a beautiful thing, though it is very limited in its scope. You can't get hardcore pain meds or anything. It's mostly just antibiotics when there is no doubt that's exactly the right thing to do. (Worth noting, it's free. Not only does it save me a trip to a walk-in clinic or doctor's office, NO MONEY! WOOO!)
So, I called Teledoc. A few minutes later, the doctor sent over a prescription for antibiotics and told me to see the dentist within a week and all was well.
No, really. All was well. I was able to get the antibiotics started that day instead of waiting the two days until I had a dentist appointment.
When I set foot in the dentist's office, he was all "You have an infection" and I was all, "How much time did you spend time in class to learn that which I already knew?" except not. Because I wouldn't say that. I did tell him I had already started antibiotics, though, so START DRILLING, BUDDY.
He was pissed. I do mean PISSED. How dare I get antibiotics from someone who was not him? I found myself on the tail end of a loooooong lecture about trusting my health with "some quack on the phone." Which, hilarious. I hadn't given any details about Teledoc at all, nor did he ask any questions. He's just that special sort of person who goes off about something being a terrible idea without having facts.
And yet! AND YET! I still let him drill away. And then! AND THEN! I went back for round two of drilling! It was actually two teeth next to each other that were sad, so I was the lucky recipient of a second root canal this past weekend.
Saturday morning, to be exact.
And this is where we loop back to Mila. Miss Mila spends her every day walking around with her tongue hanging out of her face. She sticks her tongue out when she's looking for trouble. She sticks her tongue out when she's laughing. She sticks her tongue out when she's working hard to climb. She is forever sticking her tongue out.
She was trying to tell me something.
She was telling me to stay far away from the dentist who is super judgey about everything.
When I went in Saturday morning for that root canal, he shot a bit of novocaine into my jaw. He managed to hit a nerve and GUESS WHAT! GUESS!
It's nearly three days later. My tongue is still numb. Like, it feels like I'm walking around with a 9-volt battery stuck to it. I can't differentiate between hot or cold, sweet or salty, NOTHING.
It's just numb.
It will probably go away. Eventually. Like, in several weeks or even months.
I'm not joking.
I will forever listen to Mila when she sends me signs.
Tuesday, August 25, 2015
