Big Girls Don't Cry

But the Matron did.

This morning--in the midst of an economic downturn (and she's married to a realtor!), the home invasion (turns out they're shrews)  the 100 + students she's carrying this semester -- in the midst of all this, the Matron woke to one beautiful, glistening jewel of a thought:  "Today the implant goes in!   NO MORE RETAINER!!!"

You see, she has been wearing a retainer with a fake front tooth since November!    Ugh!

Being the excitable sort, the Matron has been sharing this very important news about her retainer with everyone she knows.  Her 100 students know that after today at 5 pm, she will be able to lecture without drooling!

Her husband is hoping for renewed interest in Kiss!

Members of the search committee she's serving on are pleased that on Wednesday, the Matron will be able to ask her questions without sounding tipsy! 

The children's anticipation level is nigh-about Christmas, as the Matron has been kissing and hugging and generally dancing around the house as the day drew near!

Food, on actual palatte!  Be still, thou beating heart!!

Yes, friends.  The Matron was hugely happy about her two hour dental engagement, wherein a screw would go into a bone, holding in a crown and replacing the retainer!!   Two hours because her dentist likes extra time--in case of Untoward Event.

Which happened.

First, the novacaine couldn't quite work.  The drill kept hitting some nerve in the Matron -- who, a veteran in the dental chair - is normally quite zen and nearly sleepy in this position.  Today?  She was jumpy and screamy.

And when that drill zoomed in and that screw went into the Matronly bone?  

Dentist:  "Uh oh.  I hit something."

Resulting in blood.  As in the drill made some sort of Error, hitting a vein or otherwise breaking through some undesirable area.   It took the dentist one hour and a hospital phone consultation before he was able to stop the bleeding.

Conveniently, that gave the Matron one hour to play out the likelihood of bleeding to death from a dental appointment.  This might seem strange, except during said contemplation, she was part of the blood stoppage team, mopping up the buckets streaming from her mouth.   It was messy.

FINALLY some sponge-like stoppage was inserted and sticthes applied and the Matron was ordered not to exercise or exert herself for two days so that all systems could clot and clog according to Mother Nature.  

If nearly bleeding to death wasn't so exciting, the Universe gave the Matron another little gift:  the incident meant no finished implant.   She gets to keep her retainer two more weeks, and then try this little fun-fest again!

So when the spent, bloody Matron crawled into her van for the 30 minute drive to teach the 3 hour night class in Creative Writing (during which she must be well, the creative-upbeat type), she sat in the van for a few minutes -- and the weight of being the main breadwinner in a household that's halved its income; the shrews requiring capture and removal; the hormonal early teen hell-bent on an expensive web camera; the six-year old who can't read; the van itself with the upcoming $400 repair; the prolapsed uterus requiring 20 million bathroom trips a day; the spring garden screaming for someone with time to help it; the house that hasn't been thoroughly cleaned in a month; and the daughter whose driving and scheduling needs are a 3rd or 4th full time job (yesterday, an agent called to ask if Scarlett could audition for a Microsoft commercial-which she had to turn down because the child is already booked that week) -- okay, in the midst of all this and STILL with the retainer, the Matron cried -- just for a few self-sorry minutes.

She's better now.  A little.