I had a stressful day. In the grand scheme of things with Superstorm Nemo and Baby Drew and friends with cancer, a stressful day is really nothing. But to my teeth and jaw, it is torturously awful. I carry all of my stress in my jaws and shoulders, so today feels like I could produce enough pressure to make diamonds if someone took me to a coal mine. By the time dinner was over and I had chewed on both bacon pieces and pecans, bad idea, I was in tears and praying for relief. The hub kindly drove all of us to Walgreens to search for clove oil, thanks to research and "Marathon Man". While there, we saw my aunt stuck in the Redbox line from hell. Her husband, my uncle and mother's brother, is a pharmacist. I always hate to call him and take advantage of his position, but sometimes I do out of desperation. Walgreens had no clove oil and could not order it. Seeing my look of defeat, the hub said we would try CVS(my uncle's chain) and see if they carried any. Thank God they did. This tiny little vial inside of a childproof pill bottle. I laughed at the packaging. Insert foreshadowing music here. We were partly home and my aunt called to say she had purchased the husband-uncle recommended remedy and had it for me in the parking lot. I realized after that exchanging boxes and bottles in the drugstore parking lot on a Friday night may not have been a super smart move, but luckily the bulk of the policemen were busting prostitutes next door at the laundromat. Lucky for me. The three miles home felt like an eternity. I called first shower and readied myself for the blessed, sleepy relief that would envelop my body after applying the tooth relief. The directions were very specific as were the tools:
The box had little pellety looking cotton ball about the size of a quarter of a Skittle. You took the tweezers, soaked the mini-cotton in the liquid eugenol oil and placed the ball on the affected tooth, taking care to not touch any other tissue in the mouth. They warned against dripping, which I again joked about a little bit. Foreshadowing music once again. It was all a bit clumsy, but going alright until the cotton shifted and touched the side of my mouth. The reaction was almost instantaneous. I jerked in reaction which then caused the cotton to then fall into the well of your mouth where your tongue rests. I then took my fingers to pull the cotton out and place it back on my tooth, then touching the side of my lips. All the while the heat of a thousand burning suns exploded in my mouth. I couldn't get it to stop. And let's just say that rinsing with water only spread the love around. Kind of like swishing with lava. And that was just the right side. The left side produced the same result with me drooling like a teething toddler. An hour later, the pain is better but my mouth still burns like crazy. I started to question the amount of relief Dustin Hoffman's character felt from the stuff, but then I remembered he had a drill shoved down in a healthy tooth. The heat of the surface of the sun was probably a blessed relief. Either way, I have maybe a quarter of the pain relieved and I smell like a country Christmas kitchen. Win-win, I guess.
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