When in Doubt, Yank 'Em Out!

Is there anything more painful than a toothache? Okay, maybe a gunshot wound, but, thankfully, having never experienced being shot I can’t really make a valid comparison. Childbirth? Being of the wrong gender, I am legally not allowed to comment. How about having an angry ex-(anyone) rearing back and kicking you squarely in the lower region naughty parts? Having HAD experience with that, I can honestly say that, while having your family jewels rearranged is quite painful, a prolonged toothache is worse. How much worse? Bad enough to pay someone (a large chunk of cash) to knock you out under anesthesia and then take a sharp carving implement and have at the insides of your mouth. Turning you into something that resembles this:

WHEN IN DOUBT, YANK ‘EM OUT!



It all started with a little ache in the lower left side of my mouth. Being an avid tooth-brusher and compulsive flosser, as well as a regular dental checkup kind of guy, I figured the pain would go away, like one hopes an annoying neighbor will. Sadly, that is the wrong strategy to use for both toothaches and neighbors, so I paid a visit to my dentist. He probed and poked, x-rayed and consulted until he reached suitable recompense, then announced that I had a fractured tooth and that I should…

“Yes, yes?” I said, nodding hopefully, knowing that relief was just a few magical dental moves away.

“Wait,” my (not usually sadistic) dentist said.

“Huh?” said I.

“It’s fractured. Can’t fill it, can’t extract it, so just wait until…”

“Yes? Until…?”

“Until it either fractures some more or you need a root canal.”

After one more “huh?” and a few “what the…?'s”, my dentist smiled, nodded, and left me with drool on my chin and a still sensitive tooth in need of…what?

Patience.

So I waited, continued to eat my almonds and enjoy my dietary life as usual, while favoring that fractured side of my mouth. This went on for months and months, until…

AAARRRGGGOOOOOOOOCCCHHHHH!

The fracture fractured some more, creating enough pain to motivate me to make another visit to my dentist, who, after more adequate probing and x-raying to satisfy his curiosity and my deductible, announced:

“Looks like you may need a root canal.”

Through a mouthful of fingers, cotton, and that annoying little sucking machine, I said, “Warrgllehuhphmmm?”

My dentist smiled, nodded, added up my bill and decided to take one more x-ray, then shuffled me off to another practitioner of dental maneuvers: an endodontist, who specialized, I was told, in root canals, more probing, vague announcements, and, of course, additional x-ray taking. The biggest difference I noticed was the endodontist charges more and it takes longer to get an appointment. But if you tell them that you are in extreme pain, they will smile, recheck their appointment book, then tell you that whining won’t make the pain go away so take some Advil and practice…

Patience.

And that’s what I did, finally getting the pleasure of having a higher paid sadist probe my fractured tooth, while feeling the stirring of another tooth announce its painful presence on the other side of my mouth. So I said:

“What the heck, doc, it’s only money, right? Take a look at that other guy while you’re at it.”

My endodontist nodded, grunted, probed, ordered and received additional x-rays, probed some more then pondered and professed:

“You need two root canals. How much money do you have?”

My mouth stuffed with the expensive hands of a specialist, cotton, a dental assistant, and that annoying little sucky thing that sometimes gets stuck in the back of your throat, making you want to vomit and choke at the same time, I said, “Whadrrrgfhrrfertwwwooo?”

My sadistic little endodontist nodded, smiled, and left the room to order more x-rays. Leaving me to, you guessed it, practice…

Patience.

Finally the day arrived when I had my root canal exploratory exam that would let me know if I could save the fractured tooth, have the root canal, then be able to have a crown installed. The crown, of course, would be done by yet another dental practitioner and cost several arms, a leg, and the promise of donating various organs to science and x-ray development costs.

His hands deep inside my mouth, which was benumbed by enough Novocain to curtail the charge of a rabid rhinoceros, my endodontist announced:

“Tsk, tsk, bad news. Fracture is too deep, no root canal, have to have it extracted. I must leave now because you are no longer a viable money stream, but before you go let’s take a few more x-rays just to be sure.”

With that he left, leaving me with a numb face, two still very throbbing teeth, and an appointment with another dental professional.

While all this was going on, over the course of several months, I favored one side of my mouth over the other, effectively adding additional stress to that side, effectively causing the tooth that wasn’t yet fractured to SPLIT IN HALF!! This caused me enormous pain, and more trips to dental professionals, along with, you guessed it:

MORE X-RAYS!!

Finally leading me to this past Friday, where, after all three geniuses of the dental community, otherwise known as the Mike Foster Dental Retirement Fund Group, decided it was best that I had both fractured and root-befouled teeth extracted.

I, of course, had to find yet another dental practitioner, who, of course, took several more x-rays, and then, naturally, checked the balance of my dental coverage to make sure he charged enough, and then, thankfully, mercifully, at long last:

REMOVED MY TWO THROBBING TEETH!

Making my pain not necessarily go away, but at least be replaced by another pain, a healing, slightly bloody, cheek-puffing pain that while still nowhere near where I want to be pain-wise, at least was better than what I had been feeling for the past half-year.

The good news is I am feeling better every day, those two annoying teeth are gone (along with several painful extractions from my wallet and checking accounts), and I am well on my way to the road to recovery.

Hmmm, maybe just one more x-ray?


Until next time…

peace,

Mike

Can't Blog? Then Vlog!

Greetings from Vicodin Land!


I struggle to type this post using only one hand (and a few fingers), embracing the potency of pain-killers that keep the hurt away, but make Mike a bit more goofier than usual. The good news: I'm getting better every day! The bad news: I am still a ways away from being able to write blog posts.

Instead of writing, I have been shooting video and posting vlogs on my video site, livelife365.com. It is much easier than doing this (he says, as his fingers continue to hit the wrong keys!), and a lot less painful and time consuming.

So, in the meantime, please enjoy these v (ideo) log posts:

Mike Post-Surgery 24-48 Hours
Mike Post-Surgery: Red Sox Recap

Mike Post-Surgery (Day Three)
Mike Post-Surgery (Day Four): Never Give Up

Mike Post-Surgery (Day Five): Vote For Change
Mike Post-Surgery (Day Six): Updates and Financial Talk



I would also like to thank all of you who left such kind comments and good wishes during this past week--it means a lot!

Hope to be back blogging very soon. Until then, please enjoy my videos at livelife365.com, and keep living your life every day, every way.

Until next time...

peace,

Mike

Where Does It Hurt?

I am normally an active person. I was one of those kids who couldn’t sit still, was always on the go and in constant motion. Probably drove my parents crazy. This frenetic energy followed me into adulthood.
I like to keep moving and, given that for most of my working life I find myself situated in front of this computer for hours on end, I make sure I find the time to exercise daily: walking, bike riding, lifting weights, calisthenics, or just working around the house.

Staying active has suited me well these many decades. Nothing like the comfortable ache of pushing and testing your muscles and joints with good, hard effort, then rewarding yourself with a soothing hot shower, an enjoyable meal, and relaxation with family and friends at the end of the day. But a lot of that has changed for me recently.

What if those comfortable aches begin to linger? Or if those sore muscles and joints remain sore long after what is considered a “normal” period of recovery?

I feel your pain.

In fact, I feel my pain. For months now, I have been battling chronic shoulder pain. It hurts to do just about anything that involves using my left shoulder. This video will give you an idea of what it feels like:



The sad fact is, I was not acting (okay, maybe a little) in the above vid. My shoulder is filled with pain, especially when I use it a certain way. And since the pain radiates along my entire arm, it even hurts when I write posts, like this one.

Being a man, and by that I mean: being a stubborn creature who only visits a doctor as a last resort, I first ignored the pain, hoping that it would go away, like most aches and sore muscles eventually do. When it did not, I added aspirin and a heating pad to my home remedy. Still no improvement, so I added constant complaining and moaning to my inept self-healing cure. Again, no change. So I had this conversation with my wife:

Mike: My shoulder is killing me!
Wife: Go see a doctor.
Mike: I don’t know what to do anymore.
Wife: Go see a doctor.
Mike: I mean, I’ve tried everything…
Wife: Go see a doctor.
Mike: It’s never felt like this before.
Wife: Go see a doctor.
Mike: It really hurts.
Wife: Go see a doctor.
Mike: Think I should go see a doctor?
Wife glares at Mike, sadly shaking her head as she walks out of the room.

I finally take my lovely wife’s advice and visit my doctor. This begins a chain of events that takes me from x-rays to physical therapy to a botched MRI to more PT to a cortisone injection to another MRI to weeping like a small child to more physical therapy to one more cortisone injection to sucking my thumb in the fetal position to one last trip to my physical therapist (who my wife now thinks I am secretly dating) to…today.

Or should I say: tomorrow.

Thursday, October 16, 2008, I will be having arthroscopic surgery to repair the pain in my left shoulder.

I look forward to this procedure with paradoxical caution: I am not thrilled with the prospect of being anesthetized and having someone poke around my bursa, bones, muscle, and what-have-you, but on the other hand I am tired of the pain and ready to remedy it.


I leave you with two thoughts to ponder while I am recovering:

1. This will be my last post for a while, depending on when I will be able to sit back at this workstation and work this keypad pain free and without the threat of hindering my healing.

2. Listen to your body. That comfortable ache after exercise or physical activity is a good thing, an indication that you have been active and your muscles and joints are happy and healing. But if that ache lingers or turns into something more, then do yourself a favor and listen to your wife.

Go see a doctor.

Until next time…

peace,

Mike