My Precious Snowflake Is Sick

My precious snowflake is sick. I swear, having known the man for 13 years, he was never sick… now, for about the past year or so, I swear it’s one thing after the other…
He’s a big, tough, rugby playing guy. He’s no wimp. Chopping his hand “ehhh, minor flesh wound…”, burning his arm on the oven “Barely felt it…”, 300 pound man tackling him on the rugby pitch “No biggie”… 40 year old infected wisdom teeth that are infected… PITIFUL!
His jaw is so swollen. He looks like a chipmunk, or perhaps he looks like he has just had his wisdom teeth out.
I made the mistake of asking him why he hadn’t had them removed as a teenager, and Marie of course took that as an insult and got very defensive. Ummm, not my intentions, just CURIOUS. I guess he has “plenty of room” so they didn’t suggest it (until the year he moved out on his own and couldn’t afford to have them out, and didn’t want to ask his parents for $1600 for his teeth).
He called a dentist on Tuesday. Not the dentist whose office is diagonal from the restaurant that Ray spends 80% of his day at. Not a dentist on the island. No, that would make waaaaaaay too much sense. Nope, the dentist he wants to see is A: In another state B: Barone Boy #1’s dentist and C: Barone Boy #1’s kid’s Scout leader (So, technically he knows him, he goes to camp every summer to help out the troop, but still). Oy.
Can this family not just do ANYTHING without a family connection/recommendation? Please?
So, said dentist called in a prescription for Ray for heavy pain killers and some antibiotic. He’s been on them for 2 days and no change. The poor little dear was pulverizing his crutons in his salad last night because he couldn’t chew them.
It’s so hard to see him in pain because he’s not a complainer. He’s so sweet to thank me over and over for taking care of him. He loves it. It’s funny how even 40 year old tough guys need to be “mothered” every once in awhile…
I have a feeling Mr. Raymond is going to be having some teeth out soon. He’s terrified. He’s never had anesthesia before. I woke up from getting my wisdom teeth out (years ago) and asked him to go buy me some cheetos. It was not a big deal at all. But he’s holding on to 30 year old memories of his brother’s surgery.
Let’s hope that he gets those puppies out before our trip to NH in a few weeks. And most certainly, let his issues be resolved before we’re in Eastern Europe. I would hate to have to find out what a dentist’s office looks like there, and have him go through any procedure not knowing the language.

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