Today, I remembered how much I love the scar on my knee, and my front tooth with a funny line across it (if you look close enough). Oh how much I love the stupid ways I received these battle wounds. It just further proves that I am ridiculous. I think you will enjoy these stories of humorous pain. So today I share with you the story of the shattered tooth. Tomorrow, you will receive the story of the silly scar on my knee.
It was finally the weekend, something which I had looked forward to as a innocent 4th grader (I think...). I suppose any kid looks forward to the weekend, but that's beside the point. My friend Maddy came home with me from school, and we were so excited to finally hang out and have a sleep over! We ran in the house and got some food, snack foods that made my hands all covered in yummy stuff. So I went into the bathroom to wash away this yummy powdery goodness off my hands. Just as I finished washing them, before I had a chance to dry them off, I had the urge to sneeze. But who wants to cover there mouth with wet hands you just washed? So I turned my body to sneeze away from the counter tile.
At least, that's what I thought. For those of you who don't know, my sneezes can be rather violent. Not to mention that the average sneeze can travel at up to 100 miles per hour. That doesn't exactly mean that my body was moving that fast, but it sure had a lot of force moving it towards the tile counter. Because half of my tooth was SHATTERED.
If you've never chipped or broken a tooth, you can't exactly relate to the shooting pain that it brings you. Having a chipped tooth is painful enough. But it only adds to it when you look in the mirror to see that half of your tooth is gone, and you can see pieces of it obliterated on the counter. It adds that metal factor of "OH MY GOSH... OH MY GOSH... OH MY GOSH!!!!"
So I come out of the bathroom crying so hard I can even think about talking. Also consider that the tooth was so sensitive to the air that I couldn't have spoken even if I wasn't shedding mass amounts of tears. My friend sees me bawling for no apparent reason and seems really confused. I run out to my mom, who is still in the car, and try to explain to her what happened, but she couldn't understand me. I just simply opened my mouth and she sort of understood.
We went back inside, and tried calling my dentist. But of course, he doesn't work on Fridays. So we had to find another dentist to try and fix it. Eventually we did, so we took my friend back home and off I went to the office to get my tooth repaired.
Trying to tell that story to a dentist is a bit odd. I can only imagine how hard it was for that man to not laugh. But luckily he got the job done and I went back out with a new tooth. But you can still see where the line is if you look close enough at my teeth. Good story eh?