A Way with Words and Teeth

Since I'm on an injury-related roll, I now present episode three of "Holy Crap, How Did You Manage That?"

My Sister the Lawyer is a smart, savvy, cool lady.  She's also very tough, so I can only hope she won't beat me up for this post.

Let's flash back a few years, shall we?  It's a hot afternoon; I've just gotten home from the last day of second grade.  My Sister (who will one day be a lawyer) challenges me to a bike race.  First one to the creek (in Wisconsin, pronounced "crick") wins.

Oh, she is so on.

I'm losing.  She's over a full bike-length ahead of me, and we're coming up on the creek now.  I put all my all into one last, desperate attempt to catch up.  I'm gaining!  I'm right behind her!  I might actually win for once!

The front tire of my bike slams into the back tire of hers.  She bumps gently forward and keeps riding.  My bike does a cartwheel with me still on it.  I eat asphalt.  Literally.  My bike lands on my back, the wheels spinning a couple of times before the bike falls over.

I grapple to my feet.  It hurts.  It's astounding, really, how much it hurts.  My Sister (who will one day be a lawyer) is freaking out.  Apparently, I am a mess.  My hands, elbows, and knees are torn ragged and laced with gravel.  My mouth hurts.  I taste blood.  There is a big hole where my front tooth should be.

Picture sort of related.

Oh!  I learned this in school!  I need to find my tooth and put it in a glass of milk so the dentist can put it back in.  Unfortunately, all the pieces of my tooth are virtually indistinguishable from the bits of gravel on the road.  Uh oh.  I need to get home.  My dad is there, somewhere.  I have to bike back home.  That sucks.  While I wait in the driveway, still on my bike, My Sister (who is not holding it together very well for someone who will one day be a lawyer) finds Dad.

Things are blurry now.  I'm in the car with a towel, trying not to bleed too much on the seat.  Dad is plastering my knees and elbows with giant band-aids in several layers so I won't bleed through.  This surprised me.  I bleed all the time, so what? And we stopped at the drugstore for band-aids when my mouth hurts so much?  I'm in the dentist's chair.  He comments to his assistant on how I managed to cover most of my remaining teeth in tar; my teeth are totally black.  He holds up a needle.  There is a sharp pinch in the gum above my gaping tooth-socket.

Fade to black.

I'm sorry, this isn't the funny part.  This is just the back story to the funny part, which didn't involve me at all.  We're getting to that, I swear.

My Sister had remained at home during my toothy adventure in town, ostensibly to wait for my mom to get home and explain where Dad and I were.

When Mom did arrive, it was to find her elder daughter standing in the driveway next to two bikes, crying her eyes out.  Before Mom even had a chance to ask what had happened, My Sister (now a well-spoken lawyer) wailed:

"Dana fell off her bike and broke all her teeth off, and Dad took her to town to get dentures!"


(True:  My mouth is now insured.  Like J-Lo's butt.)