Damn you, fleshy soul-box, damn you for your poor workmanship.
I went in to the dentist's today to let them pipe happy gas into my lungs, poke a laser in my mouth, and zap out 75% of two of my teeth. I was willing to enter the building because I had previously popped a couple of these lovely pills prescribed for just that purpose - Triazolam. I think that triazolam may be one of my new best friends. A pity the smart pharmacist only gave me six of them.
They told me I would not remember anything. Lies. The brain was too curious about how the equipment worked; I kept asking questions; I remember the answers clearly. Of course, I remember fuck all about the procedure or the dentist's smalltalk jibber-jabber that's supposed to put the patient at ease but really just bores the crap out of them. I do remember that the gas tasted funny and that triazolam MAKES MY TONGUE TASTE PINK. I think that this alone is justification for continued existence of this drug. And to think it is just supposed to be an insomnia medication.
Right, so back to the story. After carving out a tremendous expanse (so reported by my questing tongue, which of course vastly overestimates the size of any anomaly in my mouth) within the tooth, onto which should go a temporary and then a permanent filler and gold onlay, the dentist discovered that the tissue around the nerve was bleeding profusely, apparently indicating the success of a previously established bacterial colony down there. Perhaps they were escaping religious prosecution, or merely seeking a new and better world. Regardless of their motives, they will all die horribly when that particular part of my jaw is excised next Monday. This inconvenient delay means that my dentist can do no more, so he packs the shell of a tooth with a little ball of antimicrobial goo that tastes far too strongly of clove, and plasters it shut with some sort of super-temporary tooth substitute. W00t. Now I cannot eat with my right jaw.
However.
Despite this causing me no pain whatsoever, the dentist was convinced that it would be the most horrendously painful thing ever. So. Now I have a bottle full of hydrocodone too.
This is hardly an equivalent exchange for a couple teeth that I would prefer to remain somewhat less cyborg-ified, but it does make up for the inconvenience. Except for the extra $1200 that I will now owe in addition. yeah. except for that.
They told me I would not remember anything. Lies. The brain was too curious about how the equipment worked; I kept asking questions; I remember the answers clearly. Of course, I remember fuck all about the procedure or the dentist's smalltalk jibber-jabber that's supposed to put the patient at ease but really just bores the crap out of them. I do remember that the gas tasted funny and that triazolam MAKES MY TONGUE TASTE PINK. I think that this alone is justification for continued existence of this drug. And to think it is just supposed to be an insomnia medication.
Right, so back to the story. After carving out a tremendous expanse (so reported by my questing tongue, which of course vastly overestimates the size of any anomaly in my mouth) within the tooth, onto which should go a temporary and then a permanent filler and gold onlay, the dentist discovered that the tissue around the nerve was bleeding profusely, apparently indicating the success of a previously established bacterial colony down there. Perhaps they were escaping religious prosecution, or merely seeking a new and better world. Regardless of their motives, they will all die horribly when that particular part of my jaw is excised next Monday. This inconvenient delay means that my dentist can do no more, so he packs the shell of a tooth with a little ball of antimicrobial goo that tastes far too strongly of clove, and plasters it shut with some sort of super-temporary tooth substitute. W00t. Now I cannot eat with my right jaw.
However.
Despite this causing me no pain whatsoever, the dentist was convinced that it would be the most horrendously painful thing ever. So. Now I have a bottle full of hydrocodone too.
This is hardly an equivalent exchange for a couple teeth that I would prefer to remain somewhat less cyborg-ified, but it does make up for the inconvenience. Except for the extra $1200 that I will now owe in addition. yeah. except for that.