DIANE MAKAR MURPHY Here's a story you can really sink your teeth into

I've gotten woozy three times in my life. First, when the obstetrician told me I had a complication and he would need to deliver my baby immediately. Second, when my daughter Hannah broke her arm into a complete Z. And third, when my son Josh bashed his mouth and teeth. That was arguably the worst.
Josh was in seventh grade at the time. Boardman Park was having its annual pumpkin carving. Although my jack-o'-lanterns lacked creativity, I enjoyed making and displaying them.
Beautiful beginning: I got the kids and Josh's friend, Brian Lencyk, and we all rode bikes to the park. It was a beautiful fall afternoon, as I recall, with trees changing colors and a slight warm spell. Lots of other people were there. We got off our bikes and bought two pumpkins to carve.
I was soon engrossed in my task, taking the hat off my pumpkin, gutting it of seeds, and finally making those unoriginal triangle eyes all ordinary pumpkins are guilty of.
Josh was being 110 percent boy, climbing trees and jumping off a picnic table into some leaves. It seemed harmless enough -- every Mom's famous last words.
"Mom," I heard. It didn't register, though, and I kept working away.
"Mom!" I think it was my daughter Hannah's voice this time (though I have to admit, the details are very foggy). I finally looked up. "Josh is hurt." Still no big reaction from me. ... Then ...
Oh, the blood: I don't know if you've ever seen a mouth injury, but let me tell you, it may as well be a scene from a Steven Seagal movie. I don't imagine an amputated Hollywood arm bleeds any more than Josh's mouth did. His jaw and chin, his shirt and hands, were covered in bright red.
As if this wasn't a heart stopper in itself, I then saw his mouth. The front teeth were missing. People always say that when faced with death, their lives flash before their eyes. Josh's future flashed before mine. His front teeth! He'll never be the same. He's changed his entire life in an instant.
I immediately, and perversely, recalled a magazine article about a woman committed to a sanitarium because her front teeth had been knocked out in an auto accident, and she couldn't cope with it. I thought about my friend Jerri in high school who, when she guffawed, sent her bridge cascading across the cafeteria lunch table. And, I thought, find those teeth!
Within seconds, everyone who had been carving pumpkins was on their hands and knees hunting those two front teeth in a bed of leaves. We concentrated our effort near the huge metal trash barrel. Josh's mouth had hit its rim after he jumped off the picnic table, turning, and bending. Oh, what were the odds?
I searched frantically, pushing and shoving leaves aside. Finally, someone told me to rush Josh to a dentist. "We'll keep looking for the teeth," someone suggested.
My dentist, Dr. John Mayo, was across the street, but I had no car. Lucie Dicioccio (now an optician at Wal-Mart), a stranger, offered us a ride -- not a small feat considering all the blood. "We'll watch your bikes," others offered.
Lucie drove our shocked crew across the street and waited to make sure our dentist was there. He wasn't. We were too late. I knew our dentist had a brother, also a dentist, across the hall. His door WAS open. And amazingly, Dr. Rich Mayo was a dental surgeon.
Big surprise: That was just the beginning of amazing things, though. Josh had not knocked his teeth out. He had knocked his teeth UP! Way up. Both of his front teeth had been hammered into his nasal cavity -- hammered with such force that they broke the poor kid's nose.
The doctor found them, pulled them down and anchored them into place. (God bless you still, Dr. Mayo.) He even righted Josh's septum.
It probably won't surprise you to learn we've not been to the pumpkin carving in four years. I wanted to go this year but missed it. Next year, I will make it. I really doubt I'm going to take Josh, though.
murphy@vindy.com