"Where's the blood coming from? Is your ear bleeding? I think it's your head," I said. We begin frantically looking over each other. "Deanna..." I try to talk but stop when I realized some pebbles had managed their way into my mouth. Spitting them out into my gloved hand, I glanced over to my bleeding friend. Her hand reached up to the side of her head and brought it in front of her worried face. Blood covered it all.
It wasn't until I took a deep breath of air that I first realized the "pebbles" were actually my teeth falling out. My two middle bottom teeth were broken in half horizontally, and my bottom right molar was severely chipped. Three or so other teeth were also chipped, but not as harshly. On top of that, Deanna's head was bleeding more rapidly. At that point it was clear to us and the people who joined to help, that my bottom teeth were the cause of her injury. Imbedded in her skin were two gashes from where my teeth had hit and split her head.
Since the pain of my teeth wasn't shown in any visible way, everyone rushed to Deanna's aid to try and stop the bleeding. A white scarf was even offered up to wrap her head in somewhat of a turban. Still in awe, I couldn't even talk about what was wrong with me. After Deanna's head was secure, she was whisked away on a snow machine. All the while I had been slowly walking up the hill with my hands shielding my mouth from the cold. Once I reached the top of the hill, I sat down and thought about what just happened. My only words were, "Teeth don't grow back, teeth don't grow back." One of my scariest dreams about my permanent teeth falling out had just happened, except they were chipped and not completely out. So in the end, Deanna ended up with a butterfly bandage and the scars of our adventures to remember forever -- and as for me -- a couple of half fake teeth and several trips to the dentist.
It wasn't until I took a deep breath of air that I first realized the "pebbles" were actually my teeth falling out. My two middle bottom teeth were broken in half horizontally, and my bottom right molar was severely chipped. Three or so other teeth were also chipped, but not as harshly. On top of that, Deanna's head was bleeding more rapidly. At that point it was clear to us and the people who joined to help, that my bottom teeth were the cause of her injury. Imbedded in her skin were two gashes from where my teeth had hit and split her head.
Since the pain of my teeth wasn't shown in any visible way, everyone rushed to Deanna's aid to try and stop the bleeding. A white scarf was even offered up to wrap her head in somewhat of a turban. Still in awe, I couldn't even talk about what was wrong with me. After Deanna's head was secure, she was whisked away on a snow machine. All the while I had been slowly walking up the hill with my hands shielding my mouth from the cold. Once I reached the top of the hill, I sat down and thought about what just happened. My only words were, "Teeth don't grow back, teeth don't grow back." One of my scariest dreams about my permanent teeth falling out had just happened, except they were chipped and not completely out. So in the end, Deanna ended up with a butterfly bandage and the scars of our adventures to remember forever -- and as for me -- a couple of half fake teeth and several trips to the dentist.
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