My Absinthed Tooth
Let me think. Of all the things I wish my tooth to be at this exact moment, “abscessed” is sure as hell not one of them!
“Absinthed” - I could handle. The wormwood might actually serve to take the pain away while promoting a health dose of hallucinogenic fun.
“Absent” – Again, it wouldn’t hurt, since it wouldn’t be there.
“Abashed” – This wouldn’t be tough to solve. I’d just say, “Hey tooth, don’t worry. Nothing to be embarrassed about. Buck up, Bro, there’s always a next time!”
“Abseiled” – I think would go into hysterics if I saw my little incisor swing out of my mouth on a floss rig and rappel down my neck.
“Absolved” – This would only happen after a considerable amount of repentance for allowing my sweet-tooth to dictate the staggering volume of comfort food I ate today. (in my defense, ice-cream is cold and helps with swelling)
But alas, I’m not so lucky. I woke up yesterday morning with a toothache. I had suspected that it was the result of me sleeping with my jaw completely clenched. I had spent almost a week at work doing up close to 14hr days (Waxman knows what’s what & she deserves a GD medal!) under a lot of stress and I hadn’t been sleeping very well in the farmhouse (go figure). By 6pm last night my face was swollen and my tooth hurt like a motherfucker. If anyone remembers the television of “Beauty & The Beast” you can get a pretty decent mental image of what my face looked and still looks like. I’ve started to call myself “The Cougar” to keep my in good spirits and to remind myself that people still love me even though I may scare small children at the moment. MB says that the swelling gives me a crooked little smile that is oddly sexy. She is a gem. At any rate, after icing it all night and taking drugs, only to discover that there was now a huge purple bump on my gums above the tooth, I was forced to call my Mother for advice.
She says, “Sounds like you have an abscessed tooth. You need to get to a dentist right away.”
So I called MB and asked her who her dentist was and she suggested that I try T-Shot’s since they’re in the city and close.
So, after scheduling an appointment, I cleaned up and headed out to Goldberg & Weinberg for the final assessment. And indeed my tooth decided that despite my efforts to clean it thoroughly twice a day it wanted to let a bunch of bacteria hang out and have a party and eat away at my skull.
Bad tooth. Bad. That is the last time I leave you alone for the weekend without supervision.
I am currently taking antibiotics and have a root canal scheduled in a few weeks and I’m taking the day off tomorrow to recover. But what really sucks more than all the pain and hassle is that fact that since I look like Quasimodo I may have to cancel a much anticipated date with a very lovely girl.
If my face doesn’t return to normal by Wednesday, and I have to miss this date on Thursday, there may not be a tooth to canal a root in.
I’m not fuckin around.
I will pull you out with my bare hands if I have to.
You have been warned.