I love my husband. He never ceases to amaze me. He's a wonderful husband, he loves our children, he takes care of the house, makes sure the bills are paid, never complains when he has to run the boys somewhere or make a quick trip to the grocery store, and he even sticks to the list when he goes! He is my gift from the Lord. I am extremely blessed. And I get reminders of how blessed when I watch him draw from strength even I never knew he had.
A few weeks ago he casually mentioned that we needed to find a dentist. Okay. I can handle that. No hurry. :)
Last Tuesday he mentions that we really need to find a dentist we can trust because his tooth has just broken off below the gum line. Ummm... I can't even imagine. He goes on to explain that it has been chipping away for a bit and it has finally all come off. Perhaps it is time to see a dentist. PERHAPS??? I begin calling dentists on our insurance, asking for referrals from friends and even our Dr., and learn the difference between a general practitioner, a periodontist, and so on. Finally I find a practice that calmly answers all of my questions and gets him in on Saturday. Don agrees to go.
Neither one of us is thrilled with the concept of dentists. People who like putting their fingers in other people's mouths, who can do their work basically without a check from anyone else, who can take you to the cleaners before you know it and leave you with issues you have to deal with for the rest of your life, aren't high on our list. No, dentists aren't our favorite people. A necessary evil I suppose.
Saturday arrives and Don spends some time in the morning being apprehensive. We head towards the new dentist and spend 30 minutes filling out paperwork. We wait some more. Don starts bouncing his leg. He's nervous. I reach out my hand and tell him it will be okay. He will survive. I'm amazed he's come this far - if my tooth were broken off, I'm sure I wouldn't have handled it as calmly as he did.
Finally he is called back where they evaluate his tooth, determine it is not a candidate for a crown and numb him for removal. After taking x-rays, it is determined they will do a 'root tip extraction' and begin to take his tooth out in pieces. It takes awhile, and a lot of waiting, but he is free to go soon enough and we head out the door.
Surprisingly, he's doing well enough to stop at the grocery store with me. I keep asking him if he's fine. He says he's doing great. I keep waiting for the medicine to wear off, wondering if I'm going to have to carry him home. No. He makes it just fine.
We have a quiet evening and head to bed early. Mom and I plan on how we're going to get everyone to church in the morning if he needs to rest. However, he seems fine when we get up and everyone heads out together. On the way home it hits him. He has an intense headache. After getting everyone home, he manages some applesauce before laying down. He periodically interacts with Laura, who insists on having Daddy involved in her day, but he doesn't leave the bed for hours.
I finally get him up for some dinner before more meds at 8 PM. He eats some soup and tries some new meds. I marvel at his lack of complaining, his willingness to interact with the family when we request it, and his stoic strength. It is not the first time I've seen it, but this time it amazes me. He had a tooth break, oral surgery, an extreme headache and through it all, he's been the steady, lovable husband and father we all have come to depend on. I am not sure where he gets his quiet strength from, but I am blessed that he is mine. I pray that the boys and Laura learn by his example.