A Hug from Old Dad

It's easily been one month since I felt the last twinge of tooth pain, marking the end of a week of misery, sleepless nights and long days where I knew what was in store for me every minute of the day and didn't know for sure there'd be an end to it.  At least with tightened braces, root canals and pulled wisdom teeth, all in my distant memory, I knew the pain would eventually subside and had a general idea of when that would be.  The tooth pain that inexplicably popped up in March wasn't like that.  Its source was unexplained.  It was familiar only early on until it got worse and decided to stick around.  It hurt every... minute... of... the... day and gave me no sense for when it would be leaving.

I battled that week.  I battled to pretend it wasn't there.  I battled just to ... make... it... better.  I took more ibuprofen than I should have.  I went to bed with my jaw resting on an ice pack and a heat pack just to sooth it for a few minutes with the hopes I'd fall asleep for a few hours.  I paid an emergency visit to a new dentist near work, had x-rays taken and accepted their explanation that everything looked good and I must be grinding my teeth at night.

"Are you stressed?" the dentist asked.

I answered honestly, "Yes, but I have been for months now."  Why would it be any different now?

It wasn't the first time a dentist used this as the explanation for some random tooth pain I was experiencing.  This time, though, the pain was bad enough that I got fitted for and ordered a custom mouth guard to ease the effects of this supposed grinding.  I left that first dentist visit with a hope that the pain would end in a couple of days, once I started using the mouth guard, and a plan just to  keep popping the ibuprofen to survive the days in between.

It's not that the pain got worse; it's just that it got unbearable.  So when I returned for my mouth guard two days later, I shared this with the dentist and found myself being examined by more dentists and taking 3-D x-rays and being told they could just pull the tooth but didn't really want to because that MIGHT NOT BE THE PROBLEM.  Oh, how I wish it had been the problem.  I could live without the tooth.  The source seemed to be my root canal tooth, but the root canal still looked good.  There appeared to be no inflammation and no infection.  We collectively couldn't pull the trigger on pulling it because it SEEMED healthy.  So I left that day with my mouth guard, a prescription for an antibiotic in case it was an infection they couldn't see, a prescription for codeine to help with pain and a promise from the head dentist that he'd have some dentist friends look at my x-rays to see if they saw anything that might explain my tooth pain.

They didn't.  By Friday, that head dentist was calling me and telling me that I should consult an independent specialist, an endodontist, to see if he might have some thoughts.

After calls to three dentists' offices, I got in to see an endodontist near my home that Saturday.  He, too, could not find an explanation for my tooth pain (which was still going strong).  I cried when he told me this.  Would there be an end?  He told me to try something different, though -- I was to lay off the ibuprofen as I was taking too much and would give myself an ulcer, and he prescribed for a me a steroid, I can't even remember why but only remember being hopeful because it was something different.  I think the steroid would help the antibiotic do its thing and would help with inflammation.  And I was to continue to use my mouth guard in case I was grinding at night.  I still didn't think I was grinding, but I'd've slept standing up or in the backyard that night if I knew it would relieve my pain.

I slept through the night on Saturday night and felt better on Sunday, better enough to take one codeine pill, no ibuprofen and take my steroid and antibiotic religiously.  By Monday -- one week later -- the pain seemed to be gone, though it took me a good week to admit that it very likely was and another week to  chew any food on the right side of my mouth.

As awful as the pain was and as much misery I was in, it is very difficult for me to remember exactly how that pain felt that week.  I remember it being quite possibly the worst pain I had ever felt.  Just as it did to my recollection of childbirth, my brain has wiped away any physical sense for how painful that tooth was. It amazes me how one's mind works to protect one against oneself.

But the kicker is this: what I do remember very vividly is something that happened when I was smack dab in the middle of my week of tooth pain hell when I was tired and sad beyond what is familiar to me.  My dad was at our house, paying us an uncommon mid-week visit.  He had read bedtime stories to the Leatherkids, and we were in the kitchen making small talk.  I told him about my tooth, and I started to cry.  I don't cry much in front of him anymore, so it wasn't familiar to him.  Without skipping a beat, he wrapped his arms around me; and at that moment, I wasn't his grown, adult daughter with a career, a house and a family of her own and he wasn't the grandfather to my kids.  Rather, I was his little girl who was suffering and needed a long, comforting hug from her dad.  It was so soothing and perfectly delivered.  I remember exactly how it felt.  I don't remember him saying much, if he said anything at all.  He didn't need to.  His hug spoke for him -- it'll be okay, Little Girl... you'll get through this, and you'll be okay.  It was just what I needed.

Turns out, his hug was right -- I am okay.