Drugs… I need drugs…

I’ve long been a fan of the U of M dental clinics, where dental care is reasonably priced, albeit slow… I mean S-L-O-W, because the students have to do every step, check off the boxes, get supervisor review and approval before and after doing everything.  I’ve had a great dentist, here from Nepal, working on getting licensed here.  It’s been a little over a year chipping away, filling and pulling, on my dental plan.  Today was the end.  But oh my, it was the worst of all appointments, had to go to the Dental Surgery folks this time, and it was the worst of dental experiences in my little life.  The tooth broke off and they had to “go digging for roots.”  And digging they did, but for it being in the upper side, they’d have made it to China.

Apologies, this time I do not have a photo, they whisked away the evidence before I was in any shape to even sit up.

The supervising dentist was brought in after the main tooth broke off and the roots wanted to stay right where they were and just wouldn’t let go.  He started in.  After he did some digging, poking, prodding, and grabbing and then extreme yanking with unbelievable and unproductive results, except for a surprised and anguished yelp from moi, the most surprising statement:

“I can’t operate when I’m being screamed at.”

Screamed at?  And he follows that with a big needle up the roof of my mouth, another on the side, and goes away for it to take effect.  It was close, I almost hauled off and smacked him one, but that would have meant to open my eyes to aim, and no way would I dare take a peek with those implements of torture in close range.

It’s over.  All but the recovery.  Drugs, I need drugs.  Pizza, I need pizza.  I need very, very cold and bubbly hard cider.

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