I've been a poorly Frog.
The toothache steadily rose to a crescendo like I've never known (and I've given Birth 3 times).
I couldn't eat, sleep or think straight.
At night I could only pace around downstairs hoping to wear myself out so much that I might eventually sleep.
I begged my dentist to do something.
Dentist: ' Why didn't you come to me sooner?'
Frog: 'I did...you x-rayed my teeth and said there was nothing wrong'.
Dentist ' Oh, hmm, well let's have another look shall we?'
He put me on anti-biotics, then more anti-biotics, and said he couldn't pull the tooth out because it was such a deep rooted infection ('you really should have come in sooner').
We had a holiday booked the following week to take the children to Florida, Darling Husband has been very unwell for months and he's made a very recent recovery and we were all so looking forward to getting away; it now looked as though I would wreck all the plans because I wasn't fit to drive let alone travel long haul.
The dentist had another peep to see if he could do an extraction...still too infected.
He gave me yet another prescription for anti-biotics, I was wishing for a miracle..or to be run over on the way out, I just couldn't take any more.
The dentists wife saw me on the way out and said I could pay a private clinic an extortionate amount and have a general anaesthetic to have my tooth out the next day, would I like her to enquire how many houses I would have to sell to pay for it?
Well, I think I would have paid anything.
On Tuesday I went to the private clinic and handed over the gross national product.
The surgeon dentist told me I looked as though I was walking to the guillotine.
I replied through clenched teeth..just-take-the-tooth-out.
I woke up 15 minutes later looking very unglamorous with bad hair (so my affectionate sister tells me), a plaster on the back of my hand from the IV and blood drooling down my chops.
I had no pain.
I can't tell you how much better I felt.
I came home and slept for the first time in at least two weeks.
The next day (Wednesday)I ate sweet potatoes and savoured every mouthful...the pain was gone, I was sore from the surgery, but I could think straight, it was wonderful.
On Thursday I had a check up with the dentist and he declared me fit to travel the following Monday. I had my miracle, the children started to pack. The milkman arrived and stayed an hour or so for a chat.
I woke during Thursday night feeling strange, I had a pain in my stomach and thought I must have one of those 24 hour stomach bugs coming. I walked into the bathroom and prepared to vomit (in a delicate and ladylike fashion). All of a sudden I realised everything was the wrong way up...why was the loo sideways and why was I looking at the bottom of the bathtub? I called Darling Husband from his slumber and we deduced I'd passed out.
Pain suddenly gripped me and Darling Husband has since said he thought I was 'a gonner'. I did come round long enough to say 'get me to a hospital'.
999 was dialled and quickly rejected because they said it'd be a while, so Daughter no1 and Darling Husband carried me to the car and I continued to slip in and out of consciousness all the way to hospital in Abergavenny.
I remember being dragged out the back seat and dumped into a wheelchair and hearing DH shout that I'd fall out if they didn't bother to hold on to me.
I was wheeled into a cubicle and asked to climb on the bed and change into a gown.
When I failed to respond the staff started getting really annoyed with me, but I couldn't move my mouth, hands or make any sounds, it was awful. We have since wondered if they thought I was drunk or on drugs, their unkindness was unbelievable.
Darling Husband wasn't allowed near me for quite some time and when they eventually let him in they demanded to know who on earth he was, poor DH was incredulous! Then he discovered I'd still had nothing for my pain...I can see why casualty staff get attacked sometimes, sorry, but the worry and anguish they caused was terrible.
I had to have a heart monitor attached, my temperature taken, answer questions and explain why I had a bruise and needle mark in the back of my hand, over and over again.
Well, after a drip and pain relief things calmed a little and the general consensus of opinion was that the anti-biotics I'd taken for toothache had eliminated all the good bacteria in my gut and bowel. My insides were literally in spasm and the pain was making me pass out.
The casualty staff started being very kind and gentle indeed once they realised I really was ill and not exaggerating.
I started to feel a little better and after blood test results I was allowed home, feeling like I'd been kicked by a carthorse.
On Saturday I was still in bed, very upset and unable to eat. I got my laptop and tried to find out what I should try to eat to recover and discovered lots of people have had the same problem!!
I discovered I needed acidopholus, lactobacillus and bifidobacterium to recover.
By Monday I could shuffle around and decided to try and travel to Gatwick and stay overnight before our flight, if I could cope with that I'd seriously consider getting on the plane...my children were upset and worried and I felt so responsible for ruining the holiday. Not only for them, but we were going with our best friends and their two children too.
We managed the journey, me with the smallest bag shuffling along behind the others.
I managed to eat a small amount of chicken, gravy and veg and felt a little stronger.
So, I braved the flight and we all set off....9 of us, like a school outing.
The 1st flight was fine, I slept, ate a little and felt even better.
While we were waiting for the next flight I had a fruit smoothie..lots of goodness, what a stupid mistake that was!
The next flight ended with Darling Husband telling me he was calling for a doctor and paramedics came onboard to help me off the plane (a hell of a way to queue-jump) and I was quickly wheeled to a quiet area and again had all my vital signs checked, more blood tests. This time they were kind, caring and just lovely. An ambulance crew arrived as well but after some time and consideration we decided I needed to go and rest up and be more careful what I drank and ate.
I felt rather stupid I must say.
We stayed at a friends house which was lovely, spacious and quiet. I stayed in bed a day or two while the others had a scout about.
I improved steadily and lived off water, porridge, chicken and salad.
We had a great holiday, sitting round the pool reading in lovely sunny weather, lots of laughter and the last night I risked a steak..not a good plan, I was ill again, but not so violently this time, no loss of consciousness this time.
And now we're home, and although I still feel like I've been kicked by a carthorse and can't carry anything, I feel much more relaxed for the holiday even though I scared everyone else half to death!
I intend to live on sweet potatoes and chicken and never take anti-biotics again (unless I'm really dying) and hope I am fully recovered soon. Oh....and always to nag my children to look after their teeth so they never have to go through agony like that!
