In the past couple weeks I can't tell you how many times I've found myself referencing a string of "accidents" I had in middle school. Where to begin? Can't really remember what happened first but here it goes.
Sixth grade P.E. class in the new gym. That's what we called it because the old gym was well from like the 60s with neck high bleachers and it was well small in comparison with a dirty ass floor. Talk about dirtying up your knee pads that had suddenly turned black. We were playing on two small scale courts. You know where there's four goals on the two sides by the bleachers so you can play two games at once. Anyways, I was running backwards to get back on defense and this girl stopped as I turned to run into her falling to the floor. BOOM my teeth hit head on with the floor and I catch two pieces in my right hand. Breathing hard from running and weirded out because I just caught pieces of my teeth in my hand, all I can feel is cold air hitting my front teeth where it feels like my teeth are enduring Arctic air.
One blurred walk to the infirmary and a call to my parents leads to another call to my dentist who is unavailable. Luckily my dad knows a guy who used to be his dentist and works out of his home. Too bad this is the guy who was the magician that performed at my sister's birthday party a year or so earlier. My mother tells it like the parents that showed up were a bit concerned for their children with his adult commentary but he had doves fly out of a hat. Maybe he'd make my teeth fly back into my mouth good as new. Ironic part about all this was I'd been to my dentist just days earlier and she had brought in another dentist just to brag about how great my teeth looked and how beautiful a smile I had. Thanks a lot for setting up that jinx lady.
Looking in the mirror of my dad's passenger side seat I admire the large gap in my front teeth where my teeth broke diagonally leaving a big triangle shape in their wake. He's worried as I'm sure my mother put him through hell since he was closer from work than her from home and getting me to his dentist to save my roots and thus save me the pain. We arrive and honestly I didn't really feel much pain. It was just a weird feeling to not have complete front teeth. My Dad and I enter Doc's house. That's what my Dad calls him and that's all I've ever known him as. Doc and his eccentric life with his lovely wife. We enter through the living room and down the stairs we go into Doc's lair. I still remember the smell of smoke as he was a big smoker which is really such an appropriate habit of a dentist. I mean it's odd enough when your dentist has yellowing teeth and his breath smells like an ash tray. His dentistry certificates and diplomas line the wall as he sits me in his chair. One thing leads to another and he shoots me up with a couple novacaine shots where I can't feel the entire lower part of my face from the nose down to my neck.
Doc's oversized hands go to work as he breathes heavily in my mouth as I hold back gagging noises. Poor Doc probably never had a clue how horrified I was that afternoon. But in any case I made it out alive. Only I came out with temporary adult size caps until he could get the ones he took a mold for. Talk about the worst yearbook photos ever. That's right it was like having two chiclets for teeth. You know that gum, I mean you can see from the pic above. But let me just segway to reference that having a mother with three brothers and two sisters who were mostly older leads to a mother who loves to tease her children endlessly. So who do you think started the chiclets comments which will never end to this day. I mean we're talking about the years in your life where you're most self conscious and insecure. Hello?! Puberty! Boys! Hormones! Anyways, after the new installation of my chiclets, I got to enjoy a magic show. I mean who doesn't want a magic show with doves appearing out of a hat with a numb face and shock from the trauma of such an eventful afternoon?! I mean I had a whole entire visit to look forward to the next time once the real caps had come in from the molds he'd taken.
Lucky for me, after college I got my fancy porcelain teeth that at least look somewhat natural and aren't as oversized and bucked out as before.
Hmmm what was next. Oh right. Most shit happens in threes right? I mean you have one bad incident and then two follow leading to what you can only hope will be a period of luck after that. This was my seventh grade year in a nutshell.
It began with a visit to my Mom's art class or where she basically helped teach art to elder individuals. My sister and I were riding with her and probably just picking up some of her art works. It was early and I was exhausted from who knows what and what do I do but slam my thumb in the car door. Ouch. Talk about annoying and painful. I think I cried because I was so pissed at what an idiot I was. A week later I'm playing volleyball and for those of you who know the game I was on the back line because I was good at digs. We're playing the middle school of which I knew most of the players because I played softball with them in the summertime. So my friend Courtney is serving and well, softball players are known to have killer serves. She served a floater which curves as it shoots onto our side like a bullet and the eighth grader goes for it with me giving her coverage just as she backs off at the last minute and I go for it half assed and half shocked she didn't go for it. Wow. I look down and my right thumb, the one I slammed in the car door with a black thumbnail is now pushed behind my other four fingers. Rushing me to the school's trainer I sit there looking at my thumb on the other side and out of joint. It was kind of like something out of a bad horror movie. Poor Courtney feels all bad because she knows me and I'm just sitting there shocked, disgusted, and in pain from the jolt and bummed I can't keep playing.
My mom rushes me to the ER at Vanderbilt. We sit there for hours as my thumb, now numb from the pain just chills while we watch people rushing by as I guess there was a bad car accident causing me to sit there longer. Finally we get into a room with none other than Dr. Love. Talk about one hell of a Doctor's name. It was like out of Days of Our Lives or Grey's Anatomy. Oh McDreamy! Seriously he's dreamy! I've seen him in person at LAX! So Dr. Love says he'll put my thumb back in place as it's dislocated and I have the option of a shot to numb me or he can just reset it right there. At this point I'm so numb and just want it to look normal again I opt for resetting as soon as possible. CRACK! Oh that's much better. Then it's time to put my arm in a cast. Good times. Talk about itchy and wow what a smell when that thing finally came off. You all know what I'm talking about if you've ever had the pleasure of enduring a cast.
But rewind, I'm at school with a black cast and matching black thumbnail and decide it's a great idea to play basketball in P.E., again, but this time in the old gym. Smaller courts and small bleachers, remember. We're playing coed and the P.E. coaches don't notice that I should be sitting out and instead I'm playing. I mean what could happen? I'm going up for a lay up and one of the guys is stupid enough to push me and what happens, I bounce into the bleachers and ricochet off like a rag doll. Probably resembled a skit from the Looney Tunes or Robot Chicken. I believe I was knocked out for a few minutes as I remember coming to looking at Coach E, our high school basketball coach who coached me in AAU basketball and was also our P.E. teacher. There must have been blood everywhere because he looked horrified as my peers and friends stand over me gawking and the right side of my face is pounding. Back to the infirmary I go and you can imagine how pleased my parents must have been to receive this call. Luckily the school nurse knows a great plastic surgeon in the area as my parents are both there and take me over themselves. All I really remember from this was being wide awake with classical music playing in the background as my parents sit watching as this Surgeon guy stitches me up with those dissolving stitches that itch and make you want to just rip them out. I mean it was cool for a little while as it looked like I got beat up and I could say I won but in a nutshell it pretty much made that year hell as I couldn't play sports and I wanted to just cut off the right side of my body and start over.
What was the saying from Forrest Gump? SHIT HAPPENS.
