Late Tuesday night, the terrific Lyse showed up on my doorstep needing a ride to the ER due to a murderous migraine. So we spent quite a bit of time there, and I mostly kept busy enjoying the glider rocking chair & my book while Lyse let the medication kick in. One CAT scan later (ordered because her migraines have jumped so dramatically in frequency), and we were home about 2:30 am. Needless to say, I didn’t go to work on Wednesday.

That turned out to be good, since I got a tearful phone call from Anxiety that afternoon. Her friend was horsing around with her and pulled her off a picnic table she was sitting on, and Anxiety’s knee slammed into her mouth. One of her front teeth was knocked almost clear out, and so we went immediately to the dentist. They determined that the root had separated completely and the nerve in the tooth is dead. They had to put a “splint” on the tooth (basically glued it to the teeth on either side) to prevent the ligaments from pulling out, and prevent her from losing the tooth entirely.

So today, at the ripe old age of 12, Anxiety had a root canal. And yet another ouch - the bill: even with dental insurance, my out-of-pocket cost was $504. They’ll eventually put a crown on that tooth, but the dentist prefers to avoid doing that until she’s at least 14.

None of us need any more of this type of excitement.