I find it interesting and noteworthy that the day I got the most traffic, had the most pageloads, and received the most visitors since I started blogging was the day I wrote a post about poop.
I have written insightful posts about comparing infertility to sci-fi movies.
I have pondered the point at which IF should be cast aside in favor of a happier present.
I have shared pictures of my wife and The Buggins frolicking in the sandy dunes.
But all of those wonderful, intelligent posts COMBINED did not garner the level of attention that my fecal exploits did. And for that, I am truly humbled. The say sex sells. I know what sells more than sex. Poo.
Now, preamble aside, let's get to what you all really want to know. What did I do about the poop.
I did more soul searching regarding this one decision than I did over whether or not to propose to my wife.
I knew in my heart, and in my mind, that clean was clean. And look, dogs EAT their poop, for Christ's sake, and their mouths are cleaner than ours. So for me, it wasn't a decision based on fact. It was a psychological decision. "Will my wife think of it every time she kisses me?" "Will I EVER, TRULY be clean, if one of my teeth has been lodged in poop?" "How the hell will I actually retrieve it without puking?" Much tossing and turning.
I decided to go for it. In part, what prodded me in this direction was the knowledge that M has to get a mouthguard because she grinds her teeth. Insurance doesn't go near it. The price? $500. So the question remained, how could I capture my crown in the least painful way? Susan noted the problem...I could not go in the toilet. There's a little hole in the bottom of the bowl that a little crown could easily get lost in.
So I thought long and hard about this on Sunday. As I mentioned, my digestive system had shut down in terror. It was clear to me that I had at least until Sunday night or Monday morning to make the decision.
I came up with an idea:
The Buggins has this perfectly good Elmo Potty, and God knows SHE'S not using it.
Now, before you split your sides thinking about a 6'5" guy trying to sit on a baby potty, please note the green bucket insert in the middle. I simply took that out, placed in the regular toilet, and did my bid'ness.
I put on the mask I stole from the OR when the Buggins was born. I knew that thing would come in handy some day. I decided that first, before I started slicing and dicing, I would take a cursory look over the entire exterior just to see if maybe, by chance, my crown was visible without me having to dig too much.
There it was.
I quickly extracted it, washed it with soap and water, and put in it a ziploc bag. I popped the bag in my briefcase and bounded up the stairs where I woke up M with the happy news "I GOT IT!" I forgot that it was 5:15am. She was not nearly as excited as I was.
So anyway, I got dressed for work with an extra spring in my step, and headed of to the dentist. When I got there, I handed the hygenist the baggy and proudly exclaimed "I may have swallowed it, but I found it!!".
She had no idea what I was talking about, but her eyes betrayed her. She was totally grossed out. She went on to explain that she was out in Friday, and the good doctor, who I never realized was Jewish, was OUT OF THE OFFICE today. Yom Kippur. You think someone maybe could have mentioned that to me on Friday?
The hygenist did my cleaning, and informed me that the tissue around my missing tooth was very inflamed, and she would not be comfortable putting the crown on without the doctor. She said there was a chance he would have to cut away some of the tissue. Super.
So, I sit here, still missing a molar, which is now residing in the sterilizing machine at my dentist in the city. My instructions to her: "Sterilize this like you've never sterilized anything in your life".
Appt with the doctor scheduled for 7:30am tomorrow. I look forward to this little chapter being over, so I can focus my attention on seeing how many hits I can get by writing about thick cervical mucus and spotting with clots.