Busted-Up Teeth
So, I’ve never considered myself that big of a whiner, but goddamn, I have one hurtin’ tooth. It’s been a few years that my wisdom teeth on top have been cut and a bit broke. I lose pieces of tooth fairly regularly. One of these wisdom teeth broke the molar right next to it, and let me tell you, it sure doesn’t feel good. It’s like the Ren & Stimpy episode where Ren has a toothache and that damn beaver keeps whacking it with a hammer.
Anyway, it’s been a long time, and it’s hurt pretty badly for a good hunk of that time. Finally my fear of the dentist was outweighed by the constant throbbing in my skull, and on Friday both the offending wisdom tooth and the busted-up molar come out. My skin still crawls at the idea of pliers being put to my teeth, while I’m awake nonetheless, but I quickly forget about that fear when another wave of tooth-anguish makes me wonder if my jaw isn’t broken. The dentist gave me some pain killers, some of those horse-sized Motrins and a few Vicodyn, but after all the knee-drugs, my pain center seems to laugh at those. I’ve woken up at 4:30am a few times in the past week, jaw throbbing, to down a Motrin and a shot of tequila, only to have it kick in around 5:30, half an hour before the alarms go off.
What was that I said about whining?