The relentless
imagination.
I am eternally thankful for generous, kind relatives, who would offer to and will actually, and have in fact, fixed my personal problem in the blink of an eye. My teeth. No, I ought to be clear - the space that was my erm 2nd? molar, is now no longer a space. In it's place is a neat, clinical-looking, screw. In lay-man's term, of course. Effectively, I believe I've been screwed. Yuppididodah.
You see, we return from Vancouver (Richmond, to be exact - yeah, that part of Hongnada) with me toothless. The root-canal gave way to an extraction. The root of the problem had been taken care of, oh ha ha. And boy was I relieved to rid it. The excruciating, jarring pain of a defective tooth, ok, over-fired nerves, is not funny. I just couldn't function. Just like hanged. And the power switch's stuck too. Type of situation. So I fired them nerves by ridding the damned tooth. Tooth be gone!
Anyway, bad English aside. You get my drift.
Then over a BBQ party, the prosthodontist tells me it's oh-easy-peasy. Just book on-line even! And it's sorted in a jiffy. So comes Wednesday just past...
He hums a tuneless tune. The expert. 2 assistants work in efficient silence suiting me up (? don't know the official terms and was too scared to ask), scrubbing me down (ok, kidding here) - but really covering me up in blue paper (lay-man speaking still) save for my face. My eyes are shielded by huge black goggles. Oherher, I chuckle nervously. Am I gonna spatter? Nope. Came the efficient, somewhat, care-free (!) reply. He continues his tune. Cheerfully, even.
My hands are knotted together and my knuckles are bleeding. But no one can see coz I'm all covered up. (phew!) But my toes are showing - was that deliberate? And the assistant peers at them intermittently throughout the procedure. I feel so shy of the blasted orange nail colour I chose for the last pedicure that I almost forgot the pain. Oops. Did I say pain?! But there was none. Only, the imagination is a relentless creature. Evil, relentless thing.
It felt like a pizza-cutter going back and forth over my gums, then into my bones, then deeper still...till I muttered (no, you can only mutter with your lips together, I guttered) OW. Ok, he says, in a sing-song manner, no more, no more. I almost fell to my knees with gratitude. Then he used what felt like a jack-hammer! Then what felt like a spanner to tighten it in place! I'm sure I fainted and came to several times - and only coz I was drowning from my own blood gushing down my throat.
But he said there was barely blood. Merely 1-2 ccs. I, (and I believe me) felt bone and blood spatter all over my mouth and throat. I must've swallowed 1-2 litres of it. He only used an 11.5mm screw on me. He guessed that I had a low threshold for long things. Or was it the OW that did me in? What am I saying? That 11.5mm screw was 3mm from my huge jaw nerve (he told me the name but I was still so frozen with fear it didn't register) - that's way too close for comfort! But apparently not. It's a very comfortable distance away he beams in a satisfied manner. Then he holds out a mirror and asks me to check it out. So as not to be rude I opened my mouth to the mirror but clenched my eyes shut. Then I peeped. And there wasn't a huge gaping hole greeting me in the reflection. Nor blood stained teeth and bone bits everywhere. Just a neat silver screw in the space.
So now my space is filled. He doesn't want to see me till next year. Why am I disappointed? Just coz he's a real sweetie actually. He worked real quick to fit my childish schedule (by that I mean a schedule filled with children related chores) and hummed to calm me down (I think, else he's just a happy prosthodontist!) and used only a short screw on me. Stuff like that.
Now I'm thinking silly things like will my body reject the screw? Will the metal detector give me more hell than usual? As it is, I never go past immigration unscathed coz something in me/on me? always triggers the alarm. What if my gums over-heal and engulf the screw? I check it hourly now - coz the last I checked, it was covered in plaque (or so I think) but I refuse to brush it lest the brittles get stuck in the groove and I jerk the entire screw out AIIIEEE!!!! Sorry, involuntary scream. But if I don't brush properly, what if the bacteria festers in that region and that space explodes in pus and blood and I lose more blood in the process.......
Shite. Relentless. Just shut up. Prayers do a billion things. I'll just pray. How will he put the fake tooth on? The implant's pretty implanted (embedded, I mean) - what if he tears my gums whilst trying to screw on the fake tooth? But I'll leave that thought for next year. He doesn't wanna see me till next year anyways. Phew. I have some nights to dream up more horrors till then. Night night.
Terri our terrapin died today. Am so sad. Don't know how to tell my Man. Was in tears. My Belle, who was still awake, comforted me by promising to "buy you a new one, called Roonie, sweetie, I promise, don't cry....". My sweetheart.
I am eternally thankful for generous, kind relatives, who would offer to and will actually, and have in fact, fixed my personal problem in the blink of an eye. My teeth. No, I ought to be clear - the space that was my erm 2nd? molar, is now no longer a space. In it's place is a neat, clinical-looking, screw. In lay-man's term, of course. Effectively, I believe I've been screwed. Yuppididodah.
You see, we return from Vancouver (Richmond, to be exact - yeah, that part of Hongnada) with me toothless. The root-canal gave way to an extraction. The root of the problem had been taken care of, oh ha ha. And boy was I relieved to rid it. The excruciating, jarring pain of a defective tooth, ok, over-fired nerves, is not funny. I just couldn't function. Just like hanged. And the power switch's stuck too. Type of situation. So I fired them nerves by ridding the damned tooth. Tooth be gone!
Anyway, bad English aside. You get my drift.
Then over a BBQ party, the prosthodontist tells me it's oh-easy-peasy. Just book on-line even! And it's sorted in a jiffy. So comes Wednesday just past...
He hums a tuneless tune. The expert. 2 assistants work in efficient silence suiting me up (? don't know the official terms and was too scared to ask), scrubbing me down (ok, kidding here) - but really covering me up in blue paper (lay-man speaking still) save for my face. My eyes are shielded by huge black goggles. Oherher, I chuckle nervously. Am I gonna spatter? Nope. Came the efficient, somewhat, care-free (!) reply. He continues his tune. Cheerfully, even.
My hands are knotted together and my knuckles are bleeding. But no one can see coz I'm all covered up. (phew!) But my toes are showing - was that deliberate? And the assistant peers at them intermittently throughout the procedure. I feel so shy of the blasted orange nail colour I chose for the last pedicure that I almost forgot the pain. Oops. Did I say pain?! But there was none. Only, the imagination is a relentless creature. Evil, relentless thing.
It felt like a pizza-cutter going back and forth over my gums, then into my bones, then deeper still...till I muttered (no, you can only mutter with your lips together, I guttered) OW. Ok, he says, in a sing-song manner, no more, no more. I almost fell to my knees with gratitude. Then he used what felt like a jack-hammer! Then what felt like a spanner to tighten it in place! I'm sure I fainted and came to several times - and only coz I was drowning from my own blood gushing down my throat.
But he said there was barely blood. Merely 1-2 ccs. I, (and I believe me) felt bone and blood spatter all over my mouth and throat. I must've swallowed 1-2 litres of it. He only used an 11.5mm screw on me. He guessed that I had a low threshold for long things. Or was it the OW that did me in? What am I saying? That 11.5mm screw was 3mm from my huge jaw nerve (he told me the name but I was still so frozen with fear it didn't register) - that's way too close for comfort! But apparently not. It's a very comfortable distance away he beams in a satisfied manner. Then he holds out a mirror and asks me to check it out. So as not to be rude I opened my mouth to the mirror but clenched my eyes shut. Then I peeped. And there wasn't a huge gaping hole greeting me in the reflection. Nor blood stained teeth and bone bits everywhere. Just a neat silver screw in the space.
So now my space is filled. He doesn't want to see me till next year. Why am I disappointed? Just coz he's a real sweetie actually. He worked real quick to fit my childish schedule (by that I mean a schedule filled with children related chores) and hummed to calm me down (I think, else he's just a happy prosthodontist!) and used only a short screw on me. Stuff like that.
Now I'm thinking silly things like will my body reject the screw? Will the metal detector give me more hell than usual? As it is, I never go past immigration unscathed coz something in me/on me? always triggers the alarm. What if my gums over-heal and engulf the screw? I check it hourly now - coz the last I checked, it was covered in plaque (or so I think) but I refuse to brush it lest the brittles get stuck in the groove and I jerk the entire screw out AIIIEEE!!!! Sorry, involuntary scream. But if I don't brush properly, what if the bacteria festers in that region and that space explodes in pus and blood and I lose more blood in the process.......
Shite. Relentless. Just shut up. Prayers do a billion things. I'll just pray. How will he put the fake tooth on? The implant's pretty implanted (embedded, I mean) - what if he tears my gums whilst trying to screw on the fake tooth? But I'll leave that thought for next year. He doesn't wanna see me till next year anyways. Phew. I have some nights to dream up more horrors till then. Night night.
Terri our terrapin died today. Am so sad. Don't know how to tell my Man. Was in tears. My Belle, who was still awake, comforted me by promising to "buy you a new one, called Roonie, sweetie, I promise, don't cry....". My sweetheart.
posted by gremlin at 9:42 AM
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