Well, yesterday I was supposed to get my final crowns for my front teeth. It didn’t work out quite that way.
I sat in the chair, was all expectant and ready for the needles of pain numbing goodness, when to my horror the dental nurse started prying at the temporary plastic crown (2 teeth in one solid piece).
My blood ran cold in expectation of horrifying pain… and nothing… That was until I took a deep breath to relax myself and the cold air of the surgery whooshed past my tooth, which until moments ago had been snuggly wrapped up all nice and warm, and I experienced a pretty damn hellish moment of “cold sensitivity”.
Now, if you think it’s bad when you get something cold on a full healthy tooth, imagine what it feels like when your tooth has been reshaped to a fraction of it’s normal size in preparation for a new crown, and no longer has the bony warmth giving protection you’re used to.
Let’s just say that I shut my mouth and commenced breathing through my nose pretty damn quickly. I was also a little reluctant to open my mouth again to let the dental nurse fit me with the new crowns. I did though, and they looked awesome. Different to what I’m used to, but that’s primarily because I’d gotten used to my old teeth, not flash sparkly new ones.
Not that I noticed of course, but my Dentist, who’s a perfectionist, a trait I’m very happy about, noticed that one of the crowns was shaded slightly darker than the other. So off they came, back on went the temporary one-piece, and home I came again. D’oh! Foiled. Hopefully next week.
Once home, it was a relatively quiet afternoon, taking it easy to try and shake off the cold I picked up over the weekend. That’ll learn me to not pay more attention to where I put my glass. Once mouthful out of the wrong water glass, and Hey Presto! I’ve got a cold. Argh!
The evening, was much better, we had dinner with our friends Cliff and Alex, played a groovy card game called Ninja Burger, and then spent some time playing RockBand before coming home.
… Enter the Pear again…
Poor Mulder is unwell again, blood in his urine, straining to pee, in pain, vomiting, and generally not a happy kitty. Anyone who knows him understand just how outgoing and friendly he is, he’ll sit on anyone and literally demand a pat by head butting you until he gets one.
Not so last night, he was crying in pain, straining, and when that wasn’t going on, lying down and barely able to lift his head. I was awake until 4.30am this morning with him, by which stage he’d actually managed to go to the toilet and seemed happy enough that I could leave him and get some rest.
Back to square one this morning.
The car drive was awful, I was exhausted, I’d had to steam clean carpets this morning to clean up the cat puke (nice!), Mulder was literally depressed and lying down and crying in pain again, and the vet reception when we phoned told us we couldn’t get an appointment for at least another two hours, although we could drop him off if we needed to.
So, in the car we got, I dropped Mark at work then hightailed it as fast as safely and legally possible (and remember everything is legal unless you’re caught!), to the vet, and phoned them on the way. Being the animal loving sook that I am, my voice cracked several times during the phone call when explaining what was going on, and I managed to get an “upgrade” to be seen immediately on our arrival. Tears really do work! But, I’ll admit unashamedly, they were genuine.
The outcome. Mulder is back at the vet. His bladder is partially blocked, he’s dehydrated, generally not happy, and now he’s on fluids, pain killers and some drugs to assist his body flush out whatever is ailing him while he’s resting on a fluffy drug induced cloud of comfort.
I’ll get an update either later today or tomorrow.
For now… I’m going to get some sleep.
Cya!
