A few years ago, I was a college student. No, not that many years! My youngest child was fifteen and I had a son in the Navy. One day early in December while walking to my car after class, I stumbled and fell face down on the sidewalk. I remember the incredible pain.
After staggering back to my feet, another student urged me to go to the emergency clinic on campus as I was bleeding and my face was pretty badly scraped up. So off I went. The nurse cleaned me up and started chatting about making an appointment to see the dentist. That was the first hint that I had damaged more than some superficial scrapes on my face. I struggled up and went to the mirror.
What a mess.
Aside from hideous bruises and scrapes I had three chipped and ragged teeth (the front ones of course!) I called the dentist and went in immediately for an appointment. And discovered via the x-rays that I'd also cracked the bone just under my nose. My lips looked like something on Botox on speed.
My daughter was away at a boarding school. I called her that weekend and told her all about my adventures with the broken teeth. She sort of giggled after a bit and sang, "All I want for Christmas is my two front teeth..."
Somehow, it wasn't so bad after that.