My poor husband. His tooth was bothering him last night when I picked him up from work, and by the time he woke up this morning, he was nearly in tears. Not actually in tears, because this is my husband we’re talking about, but you know. His eyes had that sheen of pain, with lines of stress and tension radiating from the corners, and his jaw was clenched in that way it does when he’s dealing with some serious pain. Every now and then, he’d start doing that rhythmic breathing they teach expectant parents and that all parents naturally fall into when dealing with intense pain.
So I found a dentists office open on a Saturday, and we went in. They took one look at his tooth, which had cracked, and said, “That needs to come out.” Unfortunately, they couldn’t get it out. They tried, but they could only get a bit out. He has to go to an orthopedic surgeon in a few days. He is in a massively horrific amount of pain, and all I know to do is tip-toe around and try not to be insulted when he says (well, mumbles) angry things at me.
I wish I was a wizard. I’d wave a magic wand and make him healthy and hale and whole.