No proper post today, because I’ve been out paying some lady to poke sharp things into my mouth and make it hurt as a way of making it hurt less in the long-run.
Yay, root canal!
This was my second hour-long appointment. I’m back again next week, and possibly again after that to have it finished off and capped. It seems to be going well: the continual pain I’d had for a couple of weeks stopped after last week’s initial session. Right now it’s sore again from all the prodding, but should settle down soon.
My main observation about the whole experience is this: holy fucking balls am I glad I live in an age when dentistry has progressed as far as it has.
I suppose this could be applied more broadly to modern medicine in general, but it can also be applied very specifically to the local anaesthetics I’ve been getting to know rather well recently. Seriously, I get a brief flavour of what real pain feels like when the whirry drilly thing brushes an un-numbed part of a nerve, and that’s the point at which I make a noise and wave my hand and the dentist zaps me with another dose of miracle juice until I can’t feel a damn thing on that side of my mouth any more and she can get back to work.
I almost enjoy getting it all done, solely on the grounds of my appreciation for how much worse it could be. (Not very almost, but you know what I mean.)
Also, I think my roots might have unusually deep canals, or something. She seemed to have to get a longer-than-usual scrapey thing to go scrabbling around in there.
She had Radio 1 on in the background, too, which meant that the soundtrack to several minutes of having a long, thin needle pushed well below my gum-line and wiggled around was this.
So, y’know. Swings and roundabouts.
Questions for discussion: Is there an upper limit to the number of times someone can mentally sing Tom Lehrer’s The Elements to distract themselves from major dental surgery, and if so, when am I going to hit it?