What a week it has been. 

Josh has a tooth that has been bothering him for almost a year.  His filling fell out last spring, and we don't have dental insurance so we kept putting off the replacement.  As time went on, his pain increased until one night it got so bad he was literally in tears.   It terrified me, so we resolved that we would get him into a dentist as soon as we had the funds set aside.  

But the pain lessened, and the funds never came -- we're college students! -- so we put it on the back burner once again.  

That is, until last Friday when the pain returned two fold.  He could't eat, he could barely open his mouth without whimpering in pain.  Unfortunately, it was a long weekend, as it always is in dental emergencies.  It wasn't until Wednesday that they could finally fit him in to see a dentist.  

We were given two options: root canal or extraction. Did I mention that we're poor?  And also the tooth in question is a back molar, so we we're too concerned with aesthetics.  Extraction it was!  "This is pretty straight forward" the doctor said.  

It was not straight forward.  

After an hour of tugging--and Josh moaning in pain--the doctor resulted to oral surgery to remove the damned thing.  

I held Josh's hand throughout the surgery, and I very nearly fainted.  I'm glad there are people in the world who want to spend their days tending to people's teeth because that is not for me!  Yuck!  Despite the fact that his simple extraction was now classified as a "surgery" he received no additional anesthetic or anything to knock him out or calm him down.  It surpassed the record for "most pain I have ever seen him in" and it broke my heart.  

The hygienist kept making jokes about how our roles would be reversed when I had a baby, but I told her I would rather be in labor than even watch my husband go through that much pain.  And I mean it!  I hate the dentist . . . 

Now, this is a tale of unfortunate events, but I do have to say, our dentist was amazing!  He did everything right and was so helpful.  He put in our prescription right away for penicillin and pain medication, as Josh had been "open" on the table for quite some time.  He advised us to start the antibiotics right away to prevent infection.  

So we went to Walgreens.  Only, Walgreens said they hadn't received any prescriptions, but it sometimes takes a few minutes, so we should just go home and they'll call when the medications were ready.  

We went home and waited . . . and waited.  When two hours had passed and Josh was starting to feel the pain again, I called Walgreens to see what was up.  They had no idea what I was talking about--they had no prescriptions for Josh.  

I was now beginning to panic.  So I called the dentist who operated on Josh, and bless his heart, he offered to call Walgreens and manually submit the prescription order.  

Three hours later, the prescription was ready.  Josh was now in agony, tucked into bed.  I ran to Walgreens to pick up his pills, but because one of the medications was Codine, a controlled substance, I was not allowed to pick them up, being under 21.  

So I ran home, dragged Josh out of bed and brought him to the drugstore to pick up his pills. 

"I'm sorry, we only accept ID from the United States and Canada"


At this point I was beyond pissed off with Walgreens.  My husband was in agony because of their system and now they would't give him his drugs because he wasn't an American.  What. The. Heck.  We had to call in our friend to buy our drugs for us--because they won't give Codine to a man in pain with his name on the prescription, but they'll give it to any other random human being over 21 with an American license.  

Because Josh was so delayed in receiving his medications, guess whaaaaat?  Infection.  That's what.  I woke up that morning at 5 am to Josh shaking and shivering uncontrollably.  I reached over to hold him still and his body was like a red hot branding iron.  We don't own a thermometer, which I now realize is probably important, but if we did, I suspect his fever would have been high.  

I spent the whole morning calling my boss to ask to work from home that day to make sure my husband didn't DIE.  I love my boss, and she had really good reasons, but she did not get back to me until noon that day, so I had to leave home in the morning not sure if my husband would even be alive when I came home.  (Josh doesn't have a phone.  He doesn't want to be "on the grid."  THAT'S CHANGING REAL QUICK, TELL YOU WHAT).  

When the dentist's office finally opened for the day, I called them frantically.  (Again, best dentist.) He assured me that while that is not a normal or healthy reaction, it was almost certainly due to the fact that it took so long to get him antibiotics, and if we kept up on his pills, he would get better quickly.  

Luckily he was right.  My husband IS still alive.  He did not die from a stupid tooth.  

At least, not yet.  


    1. I'm really enjoying catching up on your life. I've been off the blogging grid forever. But OH MY GOSH. This story is horrible. Absolutely horrible. I feel so bad for you both!! I'm glad he's okay now.


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