Uncomfortably Numb

Twice. Twice today I've been injected with Novocaine. And neither one of those times have I actually had real dental work done. And, that might not be the fault of the official dentist of the blankity blankhawks. As it turns out, Internets, it might be me.

On my first trip to the dentist today, first I was told that the factory that makes the porcelain for the crown I had has reported that the cement used to attach it to the tooth doesn't always adhere well and there have been reports of them falling off, then I was told that she couldn't affix my crown because my gums were too puffy and bleeding. Actually, there was something really weird going on with my gums, they were covered in white bumps. She even showed me in a mirror--definitely weird, definitely white bumps.

Here's how that visit went down. She asked me sternly, "When did this crown fall off."

I responded, "Friday."

"Are you sure it fell off on Friday?"

"Yes," I said, even though it actually fell off on Thursday night.

"And how did it fall off?"

"I was chewing gum," I said, even though it actually came out when I was devouring a hot tamale.

INTERNETS?! Why did I feel the need to tell not just one, but two lies to the dentist? I don't know, but that was my initial story and I'll be damned if I wasn't going to stick to it.

One more time she asked, "Are you sure?" Persistent dentist, that one.

"Yes, I'm sure," ridiculously stubborn patient for really no good reason, this one.

Okay, so I told a little fib--or two--to the dentist, but as it turns out, that didn't matter at all, but the Commish would have skewered me for not coming clean to you, so there you have it. I lied. And je ne regrette rien.

As I reclined there, silently saying my Hail Mary and Our Father as penance for the pair of sins I had just committed, she informed me of my fate: she was going to shoot me up with Novocaine to try and stop the bleeding and affix my crown. Only the bleeding didn't stop, because, hello?
Weird gums covered in white bumps. So there I am, laden with guilt for lying, freaking out that something bad was happening in my mouth, and starting to lose feeling in my face. I kept taking deep breaths to try and keep myself as calm as I could when I g0t hit with another whammy. She's going to need me to come back later in the afternoon, fill me up with even more Novocaine, cut the gum away, cauterize it, and then affix the crown. I'm sorry, did you just say CUT THE GUM AWAY AND CAUTERIZE IT? Oh, you did? Oh, okay.

I head back to work trying to play down the fact that she and her team of hygienists are basically going to have a civil-war era reenactment in my mouth, wherein I'm given a shot of whiskey and a stick to bite on as they burn the open wound to stop the bleeding. You can imagine my excitement to head back for that second appointment. Trying to occupy my mind during the three hours between appointments was difficult. Work was not distracting enough to keep me from going worst-case scenario, so of course I went there. It must be cancer.

Thankfully, both AP and Coach A reassured me that I didn't have cancer--I didn't even have to tell AP that I thought I had cancer, I must have had the "I hate to tell you this, friend, but I'm pretty sure I have cancer" look on my face, because before I said anything she said, "you don't have cancer!"

And sure enough, I don't (at least I don't think so). It's not cancer, it's the shingles! The shingles is definitely better than the cancer. I'll take the shingles. But, awh man, I thought I had beaten the shingles. I feel great, but apparently, the shingles have overtaken my mouth. And by overtaken my mouth I mean the gums in the very back of the mouth have become so inflamed and have grown so much, they have grown over half of my crownless tooth. Gah.

How do I know it's the shingles. Well, I get to my second appointment (on the verge of tears because are they really going to CUT MY GUM AWAY AND CAUTERIZE IT?), and the hygienist injects me with a high dose of Novocaine and then goes to town on cleaning out the gum. She's really hesitant to cut it away, and I am thanking every known deity because, we don't want to cut that gum, right? So I begin yammering on about all the things I can think about, like, my jaw hurt a couple weeks ago when I was on vacation, but then it went away and I didn't think anything more of it, maybe that's related? And that I swear the crown fell off on Friday (liar!) even though it looks like the gum has been growing out of control for a few months now. And how this has been such a crazy month--especially for the right side of my body. I mean it's like the right side of my body hates me. First the shingles and now this--

"Wait a minute. I know you're whole face is numb, and you have a couple of cotton wads jammed in there, too, but did you just say shingles?"

"Uh, yeah, I had shingles three weeks ago."

Before I knew it, "doctor" was at my station, chastising me, "Why didn't you say that earlier? I was prying to get any information out of you and you didn't say anything about shingles."

Well, yeah, because I'm awesome and I got over the shingles in record time, so how could that have anything to do with the crown that fell out of my mouth last Friday when I was chewing gum? Only, apparently I didn't (no, I didn't chew gum on Friday and I didn't get over the shingles). Because the weird gums covered in white bumps? Yeah, shingle blisters. In. My. Mouth. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

So today there was no operating. No cauterizing. No crown replacement (but there were several rounds of "Me and My Llama" playing in my brain). Instead I have to try and treat this new and oh-so-awesome "rash" (the one IN THE BACK OF MY MOUTH), and then come back in a few weeks and see if we can do this whole thing over again (minus the operating and the cauterizing).

Note to self: Shingles in the mouth definitely NOT making the the list of "Top 10 Hottest Things About The Shingles."