I was violently ill last weekend. I mean, the kind of sick that requires receptacles at both ends of the spectrum. The kind of sick that keeps you immobilized because whenever you move, giant, crashing waves of nausea rack your body. I couldn't keep anything down, not even water. Not even the pink bismuth tablets I brought especially over from the States because it's the only thing that actually helps when I have stomach problems. Except for this time.
That's when Dan came to the rescue with cups of camomile tea (when I could stomach some) and decided to be my day nurse.
Dan's funny. He wouldn't leave the house except to run down to the local chip shop for some hot chips for lunch. He asked me if I would be all right alone for a few minutes.
"As long as I don't have to smell the chips when you get back," I pleaded, having just thrown up a bucket of used chips from the night before.
Dan's very attentive normally, but last weekend, he was even moreso. Maybe even a little suffocating. But I can't think of a nicer way to be suffocated. Truly, this man missed his calling in life (which I say is being a nurse, but Dan says is "being rich.")
Thank you, Dan. And by the way, you make a great cup of tea.
I'm still fighting the infection that's been in my jaw, at best guess, for a couple of years, although at this point, I'm getting help from my local oral surgeon.
I was on oral antibiotics for a couple of weeks, but the infection, which is in the bone, didn't budge, except to overflow periodically through my gums. That's when the surgeon mentioned the dreaded words: root therapy. Root therapy, it turns out, is just the newest term for drilling a hole into your jaw via your tooth to a) perform a root canal, and b) irrigate the jaw and apply antibiotics directly to the offending area. The biggest difference between the old root canal and the new root therapy is that a root canal can be done in just over an hour - but root therapy occurs over a couple of months, for over an hour each visit.
Now, I suppose, if the tooth had been completely dead, I could have offered this up to you as a completely painless procedure, and to be honest, after a good dose of novocaine, it almost is. However, if I hear "open wide" one more time, I might throw something.
I've had three such treatments and will have to go back for one more, and each time I leave the surgery, not only am I drooling on myself and lisping when I attempt to speak, I have a great case of temporary lockjaw. The surgeon said that my tooth may be sore after this last treatment, which was particularly deep. What he should have told me was that I would think an elephant was tap dancing on my tooth.
This elephant took great pleasure at distracting me day and night. Her rhythm, I must say, is excellent. Not very good with artistic expression, though.
Several days later, the elephant, thankfully, is slowly getting tired and is just now jumping up and down on an old mattress - just in time for me to get a *$#!*ing nasty case of food poisoning for the weekend. At least I don't have to worry about needing to chew anything for a couple of days.
Dan and I make a point of getting out and having fun on the weekends. We both put in long hours during the week, so, when the weekend comes around, we try to let our hair down (or as much of it as Dan can spare.)
I try to record some of this fun - in fact, I have aspirations of being the Cecelia B. DeMille of blogging. However, CB would have never allowed his camera to run out of battery power:
P.S. Some of you may be amused to know that Dan's pedicure has been holding up over these past few weeks.