I hav a lissle pwoblem

As a teenager I prefered to go on youth camps rather than going on vacation with my parents. The latter was 'not cool' anymore, the presence of other hormone driven teenagers was prefered! During 10 days we hang around on the beaches of the Gardon river in the south of France in the shadow of the famous Roman aquaduct "the Pont du Gard" where we swam in the river, hiked, camped and played silly games. Couples got together and broke up again with great ease all around me and I was watching it all as an outsider.


I had noticed that there was one cute guy, J., in my group though. He looked quite good and he had a heartwarming smile. I wanted to get to know him better as he seemed nice but he never gave me any special attention. Too bad, I wouldn't have minded a bit more attention from his side. The camp went by and we were all having a good time.


After our 2 day hike, we all spent a lazy day on our camp terrain and for once we didn't go to the beach. Instead we started playing "Dikke Bertha" (fat Bertha), a sort of "catch me if you can" game where you all have to run from one side of the terrain to the other and the cather needs to catch you and lift your feet from the ground. If succeeded, then there are 2 catchers...it goes on until everybody is caught.
I must have been a real light weight since I was caught right from the start :p. And so I was running around like a mad woman trying to catch other people and lift them up. Sometimes you can catch them but they can snatch loose and run off again, ...the hardest thing is usually to control them and lift them up. I concentrated on J but I couldn't even stop him let alone lift him up. Every time he smoothly slalomed in between the many catchers and arrived swiftly on the other safe side. That annoyed me...I had to catch J!


Together with some other catchers we decided to work together and concentrate on J. With about 5 others we all ran towards J. We could grab his T-shirt, but we only seemed to slow him down. However that was enough for us to get a better grip and to pull him to a standstill. It was a chaotic struggle with 6 people pulling and pushing. J was proud enough not to have 5 girls catch him so he didn't give up and tried to free himself as we were trying to get organised to lift him up together. All of a sudden I feel a hard knock right in my mouth. While twisting and turning, J's elbow had landed in full force in my mouth.


Ouch!


My tongue had no freedom to move anymore as it bumped right into my upper teeth that seemed to be in the middle of my mouth now. The warm feeling of blood was spreading. My hands were covering my lips and behind them there was a gap. I knew that if I took my hands away from my mouth, my teeth would fall out. That thought horrified me. My front teeth were pushed all the way back and my tongue kept on bumping into them in a rather painful way.



In shock I had remained in the middle of the field whereas the others had not noticed immediately what had happened and had run off after J a bit. They realised quickly that I was hurt . "My zeeez, my zeeeez " was the only thing I could stumble with tears in my eyes. While the camp responsible had come and asked me to put my blooded hands down, I only shook my head. I didn't dear. Finally she pulled my hands down. My teeth didn't fall out, but I was still bleeding.

I could see in her face that she didn't know what to do right away.



The local kitchen personnel took some initiative: one of them phoned a local dental sergeon whereas the other one calmed me down "tu est en chock" "calme-toi, tout est bien" "tu es en chock" and she handed me a glass of sugar water with a straw. For the first time I had to smile and I realised what a funny sight I must be. Together with the camp responsible and the kicthen lady, we drove to Remoulins.


The dentist pushed somehow my 2 upper front teeth back in place and glued them all back together. That would last me 3-4 days, enough for me to get back home to Belgium, contact my own dentist and get a final solution. I was happy that I didn't need to take a decision about prothesis etc right away.


I phoned my sister to tell her the good news:

"Hi sissss, I hav a lissle pwoblem...my zeeezz are knocked ouzzz...you hav zsso arrange an appoinmen for denis in 2 days ..." You have to know that it was exaclty 1 month before she was getting married. I envisioned myself on all the wedding pictures with a smile as if I was 6 years old.

A new call was made from Belgium to Poland where my parents were on vacation at that moment. While I was happyly high from the painkillers and from my yoghurt diet during the last 24 hours on the camp, my parents had a sleepless night and a stressfull return to Belgium.


I came home 12 hours before them and we had not been able to contact our dentist yet. All the others from the camp decided to have a first reunion already on that same evening at the movie theatre in Ghent. So why wouldn't I join them, huh? As a result I was watching The Flinestones movie, while my worried parents got home. And when I got home I greeted them with a big grin :)



So how did it end?


Well, we were able to contact our dentist who actually returned from the coast where he was on vacation to start treating me!! I had dental surgery to remove the rooth from one tooth that had been broken off at 2/3rds. The other tooth got magically saved by the quick intervention in France. I lived for 3 weeks on a "fluid diet". Best diet in the world, I can recommend it! Weight los guaranteed and a deep hate against any yoghurt product for a long time. The surgury threats came out of my mouth, 3 days before my sister got married. I had a nice big smile when she said yes and I managed to play the flute in service even though I had hardly been able to practise!

My one tooth still needs to get decolorised from time to time. Despite everyone's predictions that it would fall out within 10 years, it still seems relatively firm after 13 years although it barely has a root.

The struggle and discussions with the camp insurance are not entirely over yet. Grr.


And J? Ha, I guess I somehow did get some special attention from him on the camp, but it wasn't quite what I had expected. J didn't really know how to behave after it happened. I give him the benefit of the doubt and think he was embarrassed. He had a very painful elbow with my teeth clearly marked into them. He never asked how I was though, he never apologised. Not very polite huh. I ran into him again at university, but he hardly remembered me. Never seen him anymore afterwards.



If you want to read more soap opera stories, check out Brillig or walking kateastrophe, to find other participants.