Hugh tries to kill me

"JUL 06," the milk said. Eh, what does it know? That was only 4 days ago (5 if you count today, the 10th). I made my oatmeal anyway, without even first tasting that cow juice. While rinsing my mouth, to be less offensive for Hugh, I wondered if that might've been a mistake. When I am lying on the chair, mouth open, and helpless to all the tiny, cruel machinery in my mouth - would I fart? Or worse ... I didn't want to think about that. I'd been spending the past couple days not thinking about visiting my Dentist again.

Today I walked to the Dentist and I alloted myself nearly two hours to do so. I had no idea how far his office in Juanita was from my home. And I wanted extra time to not be panting and damp while getting examined. That'd be the worst, not being physically relaxed and attempting to inhale large gulps of oxygen with those evil little things in my mouth. I brought a book for the extra time I'd be there, the 6th of 7 one-dollar books I purchased for my current reading frenzy. This one is entitled simply Rusalka.

It only took an hour, maybe less, to reach my destination. So I had plenty of time to contemplate the torture I was paying for, at least until our crappy insurance finally answered my claim and perhaps took a chunk of the responsibility. I could hear the drills hissing in the back rooms and the low murmur of advice and chatter between Hugh and either of his two nurses. They like to talk about everything and nothing while working, which I find much more comforting than, say, the description of my mouth or what they're doing to it.

I pondered my past two weeks since the last appointment. That had been my second visit, and the one where they first did work in my mouth -- two fillings on the upper-right (my right), one for a very deep cavity. Hugh warned me it would be very sensitive and might even die, requiring a root canal. That'd be my second root canal and crown. I did my best to keep anything from that side of my mouth until Friday when I decided it was probably okay to eat popcorn and steaming hot veggies with my entire chewing aparatus. Not so. Boy, the ache that began that evening after brocoli and Transformers Season 1 Disc 1 was awful in that it just wouldn't go away. It wasn't very intense, just consistent and throbbing.

What ensinued was days of that aching which rose and fell, but for the most part stayed the same. Since it stayed for so long, it spread to my face and jaw lending to the feeling that my head had been broken from the inside. Eventually it calmed down to duller and more dull, with today being its dullest -- I don't notice it unless I start thinking about it.

So now it's early, I'm trying my darndest to concentrate on my book, and then they call me in.

Today we're going to work on your upper-left, they tell me. I nod and then explain the results of my last visit and how it effected me over the past two weeks. He told me it sounded normal and that I'd know if it was time for a root canal. He gave me a wicked grin and a chuckle. Yeah, I remember what it felt like last time, I just didn't know if that was always how it was. Pain so sharp and intense you can't take anything for it, concentrate on anything, or fall asleep. You imagine you're feeling what zombies feel all the time and thus what makes them so violent.

Beyond the small talk, it's now time to stick those long, venomous needles into my lips and gums to numb me up. I hate this part the most, mostly because my over-active imagination has those steel rapiers piercing clear through my lip and out the other side, or perhaps tearing, or whatever. I just don't like being stabbed, however slight.

Frozen streams of pain shoot up through the front of my face to my nose and just below my eye. Tears instantly begin pumping out my eyes and I frantically make those "ogck aguc awkg!" noises. Hugh pulls his evil instrument from my mouth and leans over me with the nurse. Strange tingles course through my cheeks and my left nostril. "Ow," I say.

"I'm sorry Neil, it looks like we hit a blood vessel." My Dentist tells me plainly. "Wow, I've never seen that before," his nurse comments. I'm the lucky one! Actually, the third of three in his fourteen years of practice he goes on to tell me. You can see it in my face, and they both stare at me. Apparently there's a white blotch, like some ice berg beneath my skin, in that area. He asks if I'm okay and that he's going to finish with the anesthesia. Fine with me, I already feel half-numb and yet not fully freaked out, almost detached. I'm sure I was still in shock.

Hugh leaves to treat his other patient and to wait for me to go completely dead in the mouth. My nurse hands me my backpack and I pull out my book, intending to clear my mind in its pages. After the nurse leaves, however, the lights start getting brighter. I pinch myself as a slow rush to my head begins. That seems to bring me back. I continue reading. Nurse comes by, I wave her on.

A minute or two later, the feeling of a cloud rising and building within me worsens and the lights get very bright. I break out into a cold sweat and suddenly feel both sick to my stomach and hungry as hell. I bend over and swing my knees off the chair in an attempt to get some circulation going. I stare out the window and the world is going away. Suddenly I'm back and the nurse has just come in, "Are you sure you're okay?".

"Uh, no, I just felt really sick for a moment there."

"Want a cup of water?"

"Sure."

She brings me one of those really tiny cups you've seen in your grandma's bathroom. Now I'm actually feeling quite fine, despite my dampness, and I was actually able to finish up a chapter -- woohoo. When Hugh comes back in he says, "Aren't our bodies amazing? Those little capilaries distributed that stuff all throughout your body." Yeah, great, fantastic!

Later when they're poking around inside my mouth the other nurse comes by and starts talking with Hugh. He's giving her advice and all that, but what I'm hearing is things like "crown" and "not enough tooth there", etc. Finally they identify their true target with a "she" and I breath a sigh of relief. "I tote you tatin' bout me," I say with a mouth full of "explorers" and other weird dental crap. Hugh laughs, "Thought you were getting another root canal, eh?"

Aside from feeling like death for a moment, things went well and I've got a good, easy-to-talk-to Dentist.