This story began precisely 13 years ago. Thomas and I had
been married only a couple of weeks. We
were being giddy newlyweds and having a water fight one evening… and he knocked
out ½ of my front tooth…with a ceramic mug. (I told you it was a ridiculous
story.) The dentist then said that
because my root was exposed, I’d have to wait 3 weeks before he could fix
it. THREE WEEKS! New bride with a half a
front tooth- you can imagine how mortifying!!
Not to mention all the jokes I heard.
I’ll never forget lying in the dentist chair when ALL the dental
assistants came in to have a peek and exclaim something like, “Oh, you’re the
bride whose husband knocked out your tooth!”
“Bless you heart.” “What a great
story to tell your grandchildren someday!”
Uh, yeah - sure.
Eventually, the
tooth was satisfactorily repaired, and it served me well for 11 years.
Then, New Year’s 2013, the cap came off while eating
chocolate cake. (again, how ridiculous!)
This is the part I wrote about
previously (here) – my first visit to the dentist in Uganda. I won’t re-tell that story now, but the end
result was a slightly more yellowed, irregular-shaped version of what I’d had
before. It was functional, and I’m sure
not as noticeable as I felt like it was… still… I’d never come to full terms of
acceptance with this tooth. So, last
Friday, I was in the dentist office again (different dentist), for the boys to
have a check-up. I casually asked him if
he thought he could match the color of this tooth any better. He said, “Sure, we can do it right now!” So, I happily plopped in his chair - 20 min.
and $100 later I walked out with, not perfectly matching, but much more
acceptably matching front teeth.
Then Saturday came – oh, what an interesting day! I have no photo-documentation for this post
(thank heavens!), but if you have ANY sort of imagination at all, then you
should have no trouble following along.
Saturday was a hard-core, domestic work day for me. We have friends moving into our apartment for
the three months we are gone to the U.S.
So on Saturday, I commenced the crazy, cleaning marathon – as in, pulling
everything out of my kitchen cabinets to clean out the gecko poo, making stacks
of throw away/ give away / take back to America piles. It doesn’t take much to disorganize a 700 sq.
ft. apt. anyway. But Saturday was a real special endeavor in this
department! And, because it was a
cleaning day, I thought it best to attire my old, paint-stained clothes, hair
in a bun, no make-up… to really play the part, you know? And since my face has been especially
broke-out lately, I also thought it a great idea to apply acne cream to these
trouble spots. At 2pm. (What… doesn’t
everyone do this?) So, are you
getting a picture? It gets better… I must also mention that as
I’m cleaning, I often find Reynah’s hairbows or lost clothes pens lying around in
random places, and I clip them to the hem of my shirt so I can amass a stunning
collection before putting them away.
So, here I am – adorned with pasty, white cream on my face
and bows and clothes pens on my garments in the midst of my disaster-zone house. And then.
THEN, the blasted tooth came off again! – WHILE CHEWING GUM!!! (beyond
ridiculous!) At this point, I promise I
look like a bona fide character off of some red-necked reality TV show. AND THEN - within 10 min. of my tooth popping
off – I heard a vehicle pull up and a team of mzungus (white people) whom I have never met, started walking up
the stairs to our apartment. I was frantically
licking my fingers / swiping at my face as I walked to the door while
practicing a smile that didn’t show too much teeth. They were Americans that Thomas had met the
week before, and he had asked them to drop by and get an address from us. (Of course, Thomas was far away in Gulu at
that moment! Convenient for him.) They
were very gracious and did a fabulous job of pretending like everything was
normal and that perhaps they were not on
the set of a red-neck reality TV show. I
did a passable job of unobtrusively pulling bows and pens off of myself, while
refraining from blurting out, “I don’t always look like this!!!”
AND THEN …
(I do apologize if you are getting weary of my story, but
the tooth is not fixed yet, you see?)
So, yesterday, I finally returned to the dentist and I sat
in his chair again. He kindly explained
that he would have to add more “filling” behind my tooth to prevent it from
coming off again. He used words like
“bonding” and “setting” as he worked; I patiently waited with my eyes closed
and mouth gaped open. Then, just as he was ready to drill down the
extra… whatever the stuff was he “bonded” into my mouth… what should happen but
that his compressor should decide to stop working?! Well,
of course. Which means none of his little gadgets were working either!
He patted my arm as he got up to investigate the problem and
said, “Sorry, my dear. It seems you will
be here a bit longer…”
Oh, for the love of…
“Just close your mouth and relax a bit.”
I closed my mouth, only to make the horrifying discovery
that this thing in my mouth was
HUGE! So huge, in fact, it was poking
out between my lips, and I couldn’t even seal them. He and his assistant were having no luck with
the compressor. Meanwhile, he had the
preposterous notion that I’d like to actually see what I looked like at that moment, so he handed me a
mirror. And, yes, just as I feared – there
was one enormous rabbit tooth sticking out and down – at least twice as big as
my other teeth!
He was then on the phone with a “technician,” who apparently
couldn’t come until later in the day. I
began preparing myself – Mika, you are going to have to just leave
and come back in a few hours. You’re
going to just walk around Kampala like this.
And you are NOT going to cry right now!
Then, my other thoughts were – But I want to eat! I’m
hungry! I’m just going to have to go
find some stupid soup to sip until this thing gets out of my mouth!!
Finally, the dentist came back around with a dusty, old
electric drill he had pulled out of some cabinet. It was a long, uncomfortable
process that followed. The drill rattled
my whole head, and he had to keep turning it off every minute or two because it
was over-heating. But, at least, I had
hope then that I would leave his office within the hour! Finally, he gave me another pat on my arm
and said, “My dear, I will never forget you… I usually don’t remember my
patients, but this has never happened before, so I will remember you! … Oh, and this is a life-time guarantee! I will fix it anytime if it comes off again,
my dear.”
Well, that’s nice.
I couldn’t say that the finished product looked any better
than what I originally had when I walked into his office the week before. But who cares?! I sure didn’t at that point! I had a tooth in
my head, it wasn’t sticking out between my lips, and I could finally go eat a
real lunch! Time to leave well-enough
alone.
I met some friends for that said lunch. After sharing my story and venting my
frustrations, they all asked the most obvious question – “Why didn’t you just
wait until you went home to fix it? You’ll be in the US next week!” And my most obvious answer was that, “Well,
it’s a lot cheaper to get it done here.”
Yes, that’s true. But
really, though, it’s my own vanity that wouldn’t let me wait. I’ve already had these silly concerns about
not wanting to look like the stereotypical “missionary fresh from the field”
when I arrive on American soil. Concerns
that have led me to ponder things that I normally don’t care a whit about –
like what the popular nail polish colors are now, and if ankle boots are still
“in” on that side of the ocean cause that’s all I have, and the benefits of
perusing Pinterest in order to educate myself on fall fashion 2014 . Amidst these concerns, I couldn’t possibly
land in the US with part of my front tooth missing!
But this little tooth has been, not for the 1st
time, a good little reality check for me.
For goodness sake, I’m not walking off the plane and onto a red
carpet. If my guesses are correct, we’ll
be walking off the plane and heading to a McDonald’s. And within 24 hours will
be wading Jacob’s Creek with the cousins and bumping over the pasture in
Grandpa Simpson’s golf cart. Perhaps it
is best to go ahead and publicly acknowledge the fact that I’ve not bought
new clothes since 2012 and my hair is several months past a decent haircut and
these “freckles” on my face are most likely permanent souvenirs from 3 years
of living on the equator. It’s OK. It’s a real life I’m living and not a
filtered Instagram snap. But, hey! – At
least all my teeth are intact! And I
pray that I have no more “tooth” stories to share for a long, LONG time!!
See you soon, America!!!!