I’ve had a sore tooth for about two weeks now, excluding being drunk because I don’t feel it, which taken into account would probably make it more like five weeks in total. The tooth began aching more and more until my jaw felt left out and, due to peer group pressure I would guess, it, along with my right glands and neck, oh and the base of my skull, plus some surrounding teeth oh and my gum all decided to join in. Much like the commas in the last sentence.
At the risk of baffling you all with technical medical vocabulary, it is what the remedial fraternity call a “spreading infection”. This “spreading infection” seemed to be in layman’s terms, as I understood it, some kind of infection in my tooth that was spreading throughout my head. I thought it a good idea, once the entire right side of my face began an eternal throb, to go see a dentist.The one I chose was for lack of better words, a good one. Straight below my building and specialising in reconstructive and cosmetic dental procedures meant to me they could easily reconstruct for me a pain-free face and at the same time, make me handsome. A brilliant combination. I made my appointment which ended up being the only one left this year, they must be good, although there was only four weeks left of the year.
So to cut to the chase, my highly capable drill-wielding specialist went on to explain to me that had I not lived in the 21st century, an obvious choice I made as the other centuries seemed just plain dull, I would have been dead by my birthday next year via this “spreading infection” reaching my brain and degenerating pretty much anything of use in my head. I thought the alcohol had already taken care of that, but apparently not.
So, what was done, I hear you ask? Well, I imagine the more carnivorous readers might anyway. Because of the infection I could not have the tooth removed, it is a wisdom tooth. I do not understand the intricacies of the human mouth structure enough to explain it correctly so let me try in simpler terms. Imagine my mouth is made of Leggo. Now imagine my mouth was made of Leggo in a structure far too complex for me to explain it correctly and could not be put in simple terms. Now imagine a man with lots of whirring, buzzing, shiny and sharp weapons and a blue ninja-style face mask. Now imagine the magic blue and highly qualified ninja using those weapons for good, on my face, in what he called a minor root canal. That’s pretty much the way it went down.
So now I sit here after my face surgery trying to eat a blueberry muffin with a face full of procaine and it is similar in complexity to trying to solve a Rubik’s cube made of jelly with someone else’s mouth using thought and will power alone. I have absolutely no control over my saliva management so I need three napkins, one for my collar, one for my lap, and one for the ceiling. The best part about it is that I can’t talk and I am dribbling lots, both of which make me unemployable for at least the afternoon. So yeah, saggy mouth and luscious, teasing muffin, in front of my girlfriend’s laptop at her house telling you my adventure. I have to prepare for my “sooky, spoil me, I’m in pain” act for when she gets home so until then, l8tr alig8trz.
At the risk of baffling you all with technical medical vocabulary, it is what the remedial fraternity call a “spreading infection”. This “spreading infection” seemed to be in layman’s terms, as I understood it, some kind of infection in my tooth that was spreading throughout my head. I thought it a good idea, once the entire right side of my face began an eternal throb, to go see a dentist.The one I chose was for lack of better words, a good one. Straight below my building and specialising in reconstructive and cosmetic dental procedures meant to me they could easily reconstruct for me a pain-free face and at the same time, make me handsome. A brilliant combination. I made my appointment which ended up being the only one left this year, they must be good, although there was only four weeks left of the year.
So to cut to the chase, my highly capable drill-wielding specialist went on to explain to me that had I not lived in the 21st century, an obvious choice I made as the other centuries seemed just plain dull, I would have been dead by my birthday next year via this “spreading infection” reaching my brain and degenerating pretty much anything of use in my head. I thought the alcohol had already taken care of that, but apparently not.
So, what was done, I hear you ask? Well, I imagine the more carnivorous readers might anyway. Because of the infection I could not have the tooth removed, it is a wisdom tooth. I do not understand the intricacies of the human mouth structure enough to explain it correctly so let me try in simpler terms. Imagine my mouth is made of Leggo. Now imagine my mouth was made of Leggo in a structure far too complex for me to explain it correctly and could not be put in simple terms. Now imagine a man with lots of whirring, buzzing, shiny and sharp weapons and a blue ninja-style face mask. Now imagine the magic blue and highly qualified ninja using those weapons for good, on my face, in what he called a minor root canal. That’s pretty much the way it went down.
So now I sit here after my face surgery trying to eat a blueberry muffin with a face full of procaine and it is similar in complexity to trying to solve a Rubik’s cube made of jelly with someone else’s mouth using thought and will power alone. I have absolutely no control over my saliva management so I need three napkins, one for my collar, one for my lap, and one for the ceiling. The best part about it is that I can’t talk and I am dribbling lots, both of which make me unemployable for at least the afternoon. So yeah, saggy mouth and luscious, teasing muffin, in front of my girlfriend’s laptop at her house telling you my adventure. I have to prepare for my “sooky, spoil me, I’m in pain” act for when she gets home so until then, l8tr alig8trz.
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