Wednesday, 23 November 2016

Holy bloody fuck that was traumatic

Anticlimactic, but traumatic. You know you’re in trouble when you have your first anxiety attack when you can’t find your first-needed anti-anxiety medication…
            And for the better part of the process I was okay, too, up until the last hour before. I’ve been taking downers for three days, along with the painkillers and soft food. It was just the last shower that freaked me out and I got incredibly angry at G, blaming him for all kinds of unrelated shit. That man has compassion of a fucking pint-sized Nutella jar. He brought me some food and when I refused to get off the bed, he dragged me off, re-assembling me, making me dress, getting me in the car, holding my hand or my finger. I was in SUCH a deep dark place. So scared. Numb, practically; I kept pulling my cap down over my eyes so as not to see anything, and hugging my bag.
            You know professionals worry you will be a mess when they schedule you last for the day. They remembered me just fine and were not happy about me. But the nurse was very nice; she even asked how my grandmother is doing. Once they got me to open my mouth and inject painkiller and more or less (I hope) found the problem, then it was less awful. The doctor figured the decay corroded one of the teeth and it chipped – mechanical damage, not an infection – so he ground the damaged bits off and ultimately managed to apply a mould to lay the filling. He admitted that for my first visit to the dentist to have this shitty procedure done was not the ideal scenario, but it really wasn’t terrible at all. The General stood in the door the whole while, talking to the nurse or just remarking things, as his voice is incredibly soothing, and I kept my eyes shot the whole while, because every time I blinked, I could see the dentist’s visor cowered in water, spit, blood, enamel and bits of filling sawdust.
            I always assume it’s the wrong tooth, though. Not to mention I think we woke up the beast (my upper left 6th), and it’s just a matter of time before that one wants its turn. In the end, after we were done and the nurse remarked I did great and was a bit warm (completely red in the face) I told them to just leave me here, napping in the chair.
            It was cool. The whole thing, it was nothing compared to the way the previous dentist treated me. Certainly, there were hurtful things, like a grown man trying to cram both his hands into my very small mouth, or all those suction hooks pinching my lips, but all in all, it was nothing to cry about.
           Fuck I’m glad that’s over. I’ve been calling everyone I know like I’ve just gone through a heart transplant or something. G was soaked through and all he had to do was stand in the door. I’ll drink some of My Maja’s coconut milk now and try to eat some noodles (can’t feel half of my face), then pass out. The entirety of this day was only about the damn filling.