Dentists

Well, I just had one of the worst experiences of my life, which, all things being equal, means I’ve had a pretty swell life. Oral surgery. Wisdom tooth. Complications. My face is still numb, and I’ve taken the drugs now. They haven’t set in yet, so I better write a post quickly.

I’m sitting here watching Murder, She Wrote while slurping up mashed potatoes, trying not to think about the terrible sensation of my tooth being broken apart piece by piece, the bits bouncing around in my mouth, or the smell of smoke rising from my mouth as the doctor bisected the molar. I’m defiantly not thinking about the mile long needle that was suddenly jabbed into my jaw, or the blood splatter on the dentist’s visor.

There were other things too, like the dentist’s tool slipping and jabbing the back of my throat, or the fact that, in the end, the roots are still there, capable of causing more trouble later.

Anyway, I already took the drugs, so please forgive me if nothing I’ve written makes any sense. I’ve felt fairly unsettled by all of this, and I’m beginning to understand the fear of dentists a little better now.