Busted

This is difficult for me to write, and I write it more for documentation than anything else.  I also write it so that if you see me in the next few days or weeks, probably even months you will know the truth of the matter, and not make any assumptions.

Yesterday was Mother’s Day.  While my family made it a good weekend for me, I found myself feeling down in the dumps because it made me realize how much I miss my own mother.  I spent the morning pulling weeds for a little while, and resting on the porch swing soaking in the breeze, listening to my wind chimes and thinking about my mother.  But my thoughts turned to my father before the day was done. 

  

When I was little I used to brush my teeth when my Daddy brushed his.  He took exceptional care of his teeth and he imparted that virtue in me.   Brushing was a ritual for him.  Sometimes he used toothpaste, sometimes a tooth powder and sometimes baking soda.  In fact, during his last hospital admission when he was one month away from his 90^th birthday his nurse came in and asked him if he needed to take out his dentures.  My sister and I laughed with him as he proudly told the nurse that he did not wear dentures.  The set of teeth in his mouth was all his own.

If you are a Harry Potter fan then you know that anyone who knew Harry’s parents would tell him he was the image of his father but he had his mother’s eyes.  I’ve always thought I look much like my mother but I have my Daddy’s smile.  That changed yesterday afternoon.

Without going into great detail, I volunteered to hold open the metal gate separating two of our pastures so my husband could drive the tractor through.  He was heading to a plot of land to disk it up so he can plant a wildflower habitat for me.  The disker on the back of the tractor did not clear the gate and hit the wooden fence post instead.  Although the speed of the tractor was merely a crawl, for every action there is a reaction, and the energy of that bump traveled through the metal gate and up the bottom of my face. I tasted the metal, and saw the tops of the trees as I was thrust backwards and onto my back.  I knew my mouth was hurt so I grabbed it and rolled onto my stomach.  All I could say, or cry out, was that my teeth were knocked out.

Thank the good God above I have a sister who works for an oral surgeon.  My husband called her immediately, and after trying to assess how many of my teeth were on the ground we were up and headed to her office, bloody shirt, pants and all.

In the end I lost one tooth entirely and another one is very loose, but wired into my mouth.  The bottom of my lip was cut through and is stitched up inside and out.  

Because of a handful of crackers I ate at lunch and three strawberries I ate about an hour before the accident I could not be put to sleep for the medical procedure.  But my sister has skills at nitrous oxide and my doctor numbed me up good, so it was painless.  The worst pain so far is my swollen lip.  Well, my swollen face in general.  Again, if you are a Harry Potter fan think of what Harry looked like in Deathly Hallows Part I when Hermione put the stinger spell on him so the Snatchers would not recognize him.  Yep, that’s me.  (Have you figured out I watched Deathly Hallows last night when I was pumped full of pain medication?)

I know that God has plans, but I’m having a hard time understanding how my teeth fit into them.  Is this meant to be a lesson in vanity, or humility?  Seriously, my vanity disappeared about a hundred pounds ago, or so I thought.  It quickly returns when faced with visible hole in your mouth.  And the fact that losing a tooth cannot even be compared to losing an arm or a leg or a life is not lost on me.  If the fence had hit me five inches higher I would probably be dead.  I understand all this, but at the same time I don’t understand any of it.  Until I do I will be looking for the window opened by the shutting door.

I want to thank my husband for being so kind and helpful to me, and having the sense to call my sister when all of my sensibility was gone. This accident was not his fault even though he is feeling guilty.  I knew better, but I let my guard down and suffered the consequences.  I want to thank my Middle Child sister for being there with a doctor, nitrous oxide, and a suction tube in one hand, and the other hand on my shoulder.  And I want to thank my Pesky Sister for coming over today and making me a mean bowl of chocolate pudding and JELLO.  It’s slurpilicious.  And I can't forget my sons and their contribution of an ice pack, clean kitchen and couch made up for the returning patient.

I’ll get my teeth fixed, and I’m not the least concerned with the scar I might have on my face.  The thing that hurts me the most is that I’ve lost my Daddy’s smile.  “Lisbuss”, I can hear him say, “why did you want to go and do that?”  I can just hear him.

Oh, I almost forgot.  You see, I am convinced that my mother sends me pennies.  I find pennies everywhere.  My husband and I stopped at CVS on the way home to get my prescriptions and some ice cream.  When he came back to the car he opened my door to hand me the bag and bent down and picked up two quarters.  He handed them to me and told me they were from my mother.  I told him she would call that casino money.  As he opened his own door he bent down and picked up something else, and handed it to me, "and here's your penny" he said.  Mama came through.  It was Mother's Day, afterall.