I'm currently reeling from shock and amazement. I'm also high on drugs right now, but I'm 92% sure the cause of my reeling is from shock and/or amazement. Oh, and don't worry about the drugs... it's totally legit. I can explain.
And I will.
But first...If you would be so kind as to humor me a moment and stroll through the archives of this blog, you'll come to a post in which I quite bravely enlightened my readers on a very real and debilitating fear that has afflicted me most of my adult life. The post is about my fear of the dentist. The title of that post is Pulling Teeth. And the astute reader will notice the date on that post is January 6th, one year ago today.
I won't insult your intelligence by rehashing the entire post for you. But i will call to attention that at the time of writing, I had no idea what dental work awaited me, only that I had a recurring toothache, and a visit to my friendly neighborhood dentist was imminent.
I would also like to update you with the fact that since that post was published I have been to the dentist several times, and have had a total of three teeth pulled; the most recent of those visits was today, the anniversary of my now seemingly prophetic post. In fact, not one, but two of my defenseless teeth were mercilessly taken from me not five hours ago. Here I sit, gauze in my mouth, Vicodin coursing through my system, mourning the loss of my pearly companions. Bitter are my laments!
How could I have known then that one year later I would be three teeth down? The irony is breathtaking!
In the wake of these recent brushes with the dentist, I have made a few discoveries. I'm happy to share those with you now.
- Evidently, I have freakishly long roots. I'm actually quite proud of this. Upon viewing my x-rays, dentist and hygienists alike were thrust into exclamations of awe and elation at the size of my roots. I don't mean to brag, but they really are quite long; much longer than yours, probably. They'll very probably be published in a medical journal later this year. As exciting as this was, however, it actually made the process of extraction quite interesting. Apparently longer roots tend to break off while still in your head. This could have made for a fairly miserable experience were it not for my second discovery.
- Nitrous Oxide. I love it. Very easily the best $40 I've ever spent. While the dentist was cranking on my jaw, arms tensed with exertion, using a tool that resembled a large screwdriver, while the sound of breaking teeth rattled through my head, I laid peacefully in my chair thinking to myself, "I don't even care." Seriously, if you want a revolt on your hands, dentist, deny the people their nitrous. Honestly, I'm looking forward to my next toothache because of it.
In light of these discoveries, and after these recent experiences, I feel it's safe to say that I've overcome my fear of the dentist. And I'm 84% sure that's not the drugs talking.
I've said too much.
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