Another Day, Another Challenge, Another Success

If you have been following my blog then you know that I recently had to have a tooth extracted after it broke off and was discovered to be dead. The journey has not been fun. In fact it has been painful, detrimental to the way I see myself, humiliating, and something I can accept and grow from.

The days leading up to my extraction I put myself on a liquid diet. Not a healthy liquid either. It was that of sugary wine. Lots of it too. I thought that if I numbed myself to the reality that was about to unfold then I would feel no pain emotionally or physically once it was over.

I WAS WRONG!

The whole experience of walking into the dentists office with my husband and children by my side was of many rushing emotions. Pride that I have such a loving and supportive family. Humiliation that I was walking in that office to have a tooth pulled as a direct result of my actions. Fear of the unknown.  I was holding my own surprisingly well while he was twisting and wiggling and pulling on my tooth that was so stubbornly hanging on to me, or maybe it was me hanging onto it.

Deep breath. Close your eyes. Let go. It is just a tooth. It is just a tooth. Breathe. Again. Now let go and be done with it.

As I said those words in my head, the inevitable happened. I felt the release and out came my tooth. The emotion swept over me like a blanket being thrown around a hypothermic baby. I felt my lip begin to quiver uncontrollably. I felt the tears well up inside my eyes.

 Be strong, I told myself over and over. Don't let them see you cry. Your kids will be waiting for you and you need to show them that you embraced this for what it is. Just a tooth.

I walked into the lobby where my kids embraced each of my legs with a joy that only a child can hold and I knew right then was my chance to make the change I had been promising over and over but was unwilling to accept. It was time to stop purging.

Not to mention that I was under strict doctor orders to not vomit or I would face painful consequences of the hard work he and I had just endured.

I walked out of the office with my head held high. I went shopping with my family for the things I would need the very next day for the baking prep for Thanksgiving. I went home. I went to bed. I slept for hours and hours. I woke. I looked around. I could not deal. I slept more. My husband took care of the kids and I took care of me.

The next day I woke to Scott leaving for work. I rose out of bed and I did what I do best. I cooked. I cooked for two Thanksgiving dinners. One for my family and one for my friend who I felt needed what I had to give more than words can express. She just had a baby, here third, a colicky one too, and I felt I could give her a peaceful calm Thanksgiving so I cooked for her. I kept all the dishes clean as they became dirty, I swept ten times. I was unstoppable and by the time I was finished at the end of the day I had accomplished 6 pies, 10 casserole side dishes, two batches of cookies, a cookie cake, relish dish, veggie tray and my kitchen was spotless.

Therapeutic.

Then came more sleep. Then came the pain. Terrible pain. By Thanksgiving I had not eaten one good meal other than yogurt, I was drinking my calories in the form of protein shakes. I was miserable. I still am miserable. I sucked it up though and ate the soft dishes I made in attempt to share in the Thanksgiving traditional dinner but was tormented in the end by pain that has yet to cease.

 Stitches are being tugged, broken free, stabbing. The gums are bruised and tender to the touch. The fake tooth looks great but hurts so badly at the moment. I look in the mirror and feel like I look like a white trash hillbilly. Toothless. Embarrassed. 

Last night I spent the night in so much pain I was laying on the couch begging my husband to shoot me, commit me, take me in for a shot. Anything. Nothing was numbing the pain. Finally after a few extra vicodin I passed out. 

Today we went to the store. I had my fake tooth in afraid of showing the dark, bloody, stinky, gaping hole. I was in pain for vanity. We went out to eat. I had mushy french fries, onion soup, soggy bread. I watched as my husband enjoyed his big, juicy, loaded with yumminess, burger. I feel like I am starving but cannot eat because the pain is so bad. 

So I am on day 4 of no purging and yet I am not proud. I am not eating. I am miserable. How is that something to celebrate? I did this to myself. So I ask for no pity. But yet pity would be so nice at this point. 

I know. I'm kinda crazy.

Tomorrow is a new day. A monumental one at that. I am getting on an airplane with my good friend Christy and we are leaving husbands, kids, and our realities behind while we let loose and enjoy a fun 48 hours in Las Vegas. No expectations. No demands. No schedules. No pressure. Just good friends. Good laughs. Good break. A much needed break. A first for me. But it won't be the last. 

No if only the pain would stop.