......I went to the dentist thinking I would merely need a crown for the tooth I errantly thought I had cracked. HA!! Well in typical Geralyn fashion, the delightfully young dentist who appeared to be about 12 or 13 (since my dentist retired) gleefully informed me that I in fact had a cavity that went under my existing filling and needed to be drilled out and re-filled. YIPPPEEEE Seems the cavity was really deep and he sent me on my way with the warning to look out for excrutiating pain that would indeed indicate I would need a root canal. I have never had a root canal and seriously hope to never, ever have one.......EVER!!
This is just a natural completion to the misery that I feel having been stuck in MOI for 3 plus months. I would understand if they could give me a reason as to why we are still there, but in the absence of that, I am left with nothing. No reason, no explanation, and defintely no MOI movement. Marc was getting dressed this morning and tells me he is about to the point where he will just jump on a plane to PaP and give those in the know and power, a large sum of cash. Yes we are seriously contemplating bribery and whatever else is actually necessary to get my boys home. Since I am not up to date on illegal acts such as bribery, larceny and extortion I am not sure how to go about this, but I am open to suggestions from any of my felonious friends. Adoption makes people think and do weird stuff.
My novocaine is wearing off and my tooth is throbbing and my tongue is still numb. Being the trooper that I am, I managed to choke down a piece of chocolate cake and oddly enough, noticed that it had very little flavor. HHMMMMM, I wonder if I am onto something there?? And a warning to all of you that may have verbal diarhea like I am prone to. As I made small talk with Skippy, the 12 year old dentist, we talked about, what else, our Haitian adoption and I told him that the first time I was there I got dysentary. OOOps....the look on his face was pure fright. So the lesson here is if someone is going to be sticking their hand in your mouth, it is wise to refrain from telling him of the last intestinal distress that caused great motility of your bowels. I hastened to add that I had actually been treated and he seemed to relax. Maybe for a laugh I should have told him that I am an obsessive-complusive biter. I am wicked.
There are scars, still. Even within the miracles.
3 months ago