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At Least It Wasn't A "Pulpectomy"
May. 22nd, 2005 11:39 pmAfter a quite lovely Saturday of indolence and friend-y stuff--![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
agincourtgirl came over to bond with Cal, we watched Doctor Who and ate K.D., etc.--this morning began with a literal bang when Cal climbed the kitchen baby-gate, planted his fine new teeth in the top of it, and pulled it over on himself. The wrench somehow levered his teeth both together and outward, so they were suddenly almost level with his gum, which he ripped open; great screaming, much blood and a whirlwind trip to Sick Kids' Emerg resulted. A nice young pediatric dentist named Dr Tam took a look, and suggested the best idea would be to yank both teeth and close the gum with a suture. We agreed. I then had to simultaneously hold Cal's jaw still and press his tongue away from the needle as Dr Tam made the stitch, while Steve kept Cal pinned flat inside this wrappy restraint thing Tam called "the burrito". (Hey, just realized: Obviously, this was River and Simon's distant ancestor.)
Naturally, Mom was horrified once she learned the details, particularly at the prospect of Cal having holes in his smile 'til he's eight or older--she also thinks it may affect hsi speech, to which I say: "Yeah, but at least he didn't have to have a double root canal before he was one, so let's cross that bridge when we fucking get there, okay?" As ever, she has this wonderful way of making me feel like I obviously must have been worshipping Venus and ignoring Cal's immediate danger when the accident happened; never mind that with Cal's hugeness, strength, obsessive need to climb everything he sees and utter fearlessness at work, we can probably bet on today being far from the last time he'll see the inside of a hospital. Or that I was/am exactly as horrified, if not more so.
Because: Yeah, I was fairly dispassionate while I did what I had to, but JESUS. If I never have to get my son's blood on my hands while watching somebody try three separate times to push a curved needle through his gums again, it'll be entirely too Goddamn soon. And thank Christ, also, for babies taking a good long while to develop long-term memory--if I was Cal, I wouldn't even trust me as far as I could throw me anymore. Instead, however, he fell asleep in my arms tonight, holding on for dear life.
And so, to bed. More horrors tomorrow, I'm sure.
agincourtgirl came over to bond with Cal, we watched Doctor Who and ate K.D., etc.--this morning began with a literal bang when Cal climbed the kitchen baby-gate, planted his fine new teeth in the top of it, and pulled it over on himself. The wrench somehow levered his teeth both together and outward, so they were suddenly almost level with his gum, which he ripped open; great screaming, much blood and a whirlwind trip to Sick Kids' Emerg resulted. A nice young pediatric dentist named Dr Tam took a look, and suggested the best idea would be to yank both teeth and close the gum with a suture. We agreed. I then had to simultaneously hold Cal's jaw still and press his tongue away from the needle as Dr Tam made the stitch, while Steve kept Cal pinned flat inside this wrappy restraint thing Tam called "the burrito". (Hey, just realized: Obviously, this was River and Simon's distant ancestor.)Naturally, Mom was horrified once she learned the details, particularly at the prospect of Cal having holes in his smile 'til he's eight or older--she also thinks it may affect hsi speech, to which I say: "Yeah, but at least he didn't have to have a double root canal before he was one, so let's cross that bridge when we fucking get there, okay?" As ever, she has this wonderful way of making me feel like I obviously must have been worshipping Venus and ignoring Cal's immediate danger when the accident happened; never mind that with Cal's hugeness, strength, obsessive need to climb everything he sees and utter fearlessness at work, we can probably bet on today being far from the last time he'll see the inside of a hospital. Or that I was/am exactly as horrified, if not more so.
Because: Yeah, I was fairly dispassionate while I did what I had to, but JESUS. If I never have to get my son's blood on my hands while watching somebody try three separate times to push a curved needle through his gums again, it'll be entirely too Goddamn soon. And thank Christ, also, for babies taking a good long while to develop long-term memory--if I was Cal, I wouldn't even trust me as far as I could throw me anymore. Instead, however, he fell asleep in my arms tonight, holding on for dear life.
And so, to bed. More horrors tomorrow, I'm sure.
