Had an emergency visit to the dentist yesterday because I thought I’d messed up the bone graft he put in when he pulled the molar whose crown had already failed catastrophically once three years ago, and came loose again three days before my birthday.  So, three days after my birthday, that left lower molar was pulled, and the bone graft placed.  He placed a membrane above the graft to shield the graft while it “takes” — which is to say, while my bone grows out over the latticework of the graft and fills in the big hole extracting the tooth left behind.

I have to chew very carefully all on my right side so as to protect the membrane and the healing bone.  Harder than it sounds as I habitually chewed on the left side, having lost a lower molar at the back on the right side.  That tooth had to be pulled quite a while ago because the tooth broke in half.  I have a long, involved dental history. I have more root canals than live teeth.  My teeth have probably put kids through college.

Thursday evening, I wasn’t paying attention, forgot, and chewed down on that left side, felt pain, and just knew I’d screwed the bone graft up.  Panic call to the dentist first thing Friday morning.  His office closes at noon on Friday, and they couldn’t fit me in until Monday afternoon at 4 p.m.  So I was on tenterhooks all weekend and most of yesterday until he could get a look at it.  Nope.  I was still “healing like a champ.”  WHEW!

I don’t go back until the 21st, when the stitches may come out and we will see if the bone graft has “taken.”  If the bone graft “takes,” then he’ll put in the post that will hold the tooth.  Once that has “healed in,” he’ll put the tooth on top of it, and I’ll be good as new.  We’re talking about three months or more before I have a working tooth again.  Sigh.

In the knitting news, I have been knitting toboggans for my friend LB, who is again (still?) battling  breast cancer.  This is her third recurrence, and it’s in her bones now.  She’s undergoing a months-long series of chemotherapy treatments for the third time.  She’s had enough treatments this session that she has lost all her hair (again), and she likes to sleep in toboggan-style caps to keep her poor little bald head warm.  This afternoon before knitting group, I snuck by her house and put a pair of toboggans in her mailbox.  Her chemo treatments are given on Tuesdays, and I knew she’d be out for the count and didn’t want to disturb her.   I usually wait until Sunday or Monday afternoon to call her, as that’s when she’s starting to bounce back again.

These are the two hats I put in her mailbox.  They’re the No Frills Toboggan Mark II pattern.

That Red Heart Unforgettable yarn has such gorgeous color variations. The colorway of the one to the right is “Polo” and the one above is “Parrot.”  It’s kind of a b*tch to knit up, though, as it is a single ply yarn.  As such, it tends to split badly, and it’s very fiber-fuzzy, which makes it extra soft, but which means when I’m winding it into a ball, I do a lot of Winne ther Pooh “poohing”* to blow the fibers off my nose where they tend to collect as I breathe — they tickle!

One great thing about the ChiaoGoo Red Lace knitting needles and their wonderful long-taper point, though, is that they make this kind of yarn easier to work with.    The long- taper points (the ChiaoGoo Red Lace needles’ taper is 3/4 of an inch long) are also great for lace knitting as the long taper makes stitches like k3tog and sssk easier to do.  As I finished each of these toboggans, I’ve been putting it into sandwich baggies with the intention of enclosing washing instructions.  One of the handful of baggies I grabbed and put on the table beside my computer fell off.  Apparently, a certain fat(cat)boy tasted it to see if it was the sort of thing that kitties eat — apparently, some deliberation was involved.  He’s nothing if not thorough.

*A.A. Milne wrote in the first chapter of the first Winnie the Pooh book, “But his arms were so stiff … they stayed up straight in the air for more than a week, and whenever a fly came and settled on his nose he had to blow it off. And I think—but I am not sure—that that is why he is always called Pooh.”

Silly old bear.

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