My dentist is a great guy.
Several months ago, I did a week-end certification program to become a yoga teacher. It was great fun but left my legs a little wobbly. So that was the perfect time to go on a trail run with my hubby who likes to see how far I can stretch before I break. As I rounded the bend on Cold Harbor Trail (no water in sight) I caught a root and went down. In a heroic attempt to save my IPhone, I took all my body weight on the non-phone carrying side. The phone was saved. Whew. Alas, I jacked up my hand, chipped a tooth, and banged up my leg. What to do? Immediately call my dentist. Lovely Betsy asks if I can get into the office in fifteen minutes. Of course I can as long as I don't stop to wash off the twigs, blood, dirt, and possibly a couple of insect remains on my person.
I walk into the office and lovely Betsy almost falls out of her chair to get me hustled to the back so I "don't scare people."
"What is wrong with you?"
"I chipped a tooth."
"Why are you covered in blood?"
"I tripped on a root, thus the chipped tooth."
"Teeth don't bleed."
You would think the folks in the dentist office would be used to a little blood but I learned that day that they like it to remain in the mouth. Nothing to be done about the tooth but they all encouraged me to go home and wash up. Dr. P was a champ.
My hubby likes to give me running advice. I can get a little persnickety when he offers me tips on what to do when I run.....wear a heart monitor, tell people the route you are running, watch out for roots, etc. I decided to turn over a new leaf. He offered me gummy protein blocks so I wouldn't bonk on the Rail Trail, a longish hot run in mid summer. Love in a gelatinous form.
At the midway point, I stopped at the trail head and popped a gummy block. As I was chewing, I became quite confused as it seemed there was a small nut in the middle of my treat. I spit it out to take a look. Imagine my surprise when the top part of my tooth, the cap, was embedded in the block. I was so surprised that I had to share the news with an older gentleman who was trying to use the Porta Potty:
"I just lost a tooth", I said to him as I moved in to show him. Sadly, he was backed against the Porta Potty and had no where to go, really.
"That is unfortunate", says he.
Now we seem to be good buddies because he is there for me in my time of crisis:
"What should I do?" says I.
"Put it in your pocket and call your dentist." Wise man.
As it was a Saturday, I got the crisis number which turns out to be my dentist's cellphone.
"This is Steve (name changed to protect my dentist who has to take patients like me)."
Me, thinking that Steve and I are good buddies because I saw him 4 months ago, reply with,
"Steve, it is Kayla"
"Who is this?"
"I'm sorry Dr. P......, this is Kayla D, one of your patients....I've got another running related tooth injury."
Some take aways for you: when your dentist tells you to cut down on your running to save your teeth, something is out of balance; be very careful when you try and hang with my husband, and true friends can always be found near a porta potty.