Khalil Gibran wrote in The Prophet, 'your pain is the breaking of the shell of your understanding'. Mmmm, this is wonderfully profound until one has this amount of toothache in 3 months! I just don't need this level of understanding, thank you very much, I would rather stay ignorant and hidden in my safe hard shell. I have to thank Alex from the bottom of my heart for writing to say that he understands the whole rootcanal thing being on a different kind of level, I thought that I was coming across a bit loony.
Toothache kills all creativity and the will to write anything, that's a fact. At least now I can say that a whole new chapter has opened for my tooth saga, one which I have been resisting, I have to say it.... tooth and nail.
I start my third rootcanal treatment of the year tomorrow.
On Wednesday the pain was so bad that I went to see Dr Matt in the evening. He ended up giving me three injections, I was sobbing like a baby on the chair, and my tooth was still throbbing. Instructed me to start taking some antibiotics. On the drive home I took more painkillers and was in such a desperate state that I decided to swing past Joe's house. He had casually mentioned earlier that he had a medicinal bottle of whiskey.... A bottle of Irish Jamesons to be exact, which went down all too smoothly.
I recalled my first weekend in Ireland, in magical Donegal, many moons ago where I was firstly introduced to the chocolately creamy Guiness that one only gets in Ireland, followed by a good few drinks of Paddy's whiskey. This is after I asked the barman for something 'tasty and a bit rough'. After tasting a small tot...much to his surprise I took a 20 pound note from my back pocket and purchased the bottle. Say no more.
Back to Wednesday, or Thursday then, to be exact. I came to on the couch rather worse for wear, with various huge bruises, but no toothache, much to my relief!
The pain had returned by evening and after going through an uncomfortable weekend, I returned tonight. I was still hoping to escape the fate of another rootcanal, but Dr Matt says its a textbook case, the pain hits you just as you think you are ready to fall asleep. Horrible. Anyway, no way out of this one.
I do have a few blessings to count, one of which is a really funny book written by a South African, John van de Ruit. It is called Spud, a story set in a boy's boarding school in SA. It was the perfect antidote to get my of my own suffering, and I highly recommend it.
Toothache kills all creativity and the will to write anything, that's a fact. At least now I can say that a whole new chapter has opened for my tooth saga, one which I have been resisting, I have to say it.... tooth and nail.
I start my third rootcanal treatment of the year tomorrow.
On Wednesday the pain was so bad that I went to see Dr Matt in the evening. He ended up giving me three injections, I was sobbing like a baby on the chair, and my tooth was still throbbing. Instructed me to start taking some antibiotics. On the drive home I took more painkillers and was in such a desperate state that I decided to swing past Joe's house. He had casually mentioned earlier that he had a medicinal bottle of whiskey.... A bottle of Irish Jamesons to be exact, which went down all too smoothly.
I recalled my first weekend in Ireland, in magical Donegal, many moons ago where I was firstly introduced to the chocolately creamy Guiness that one only gets in Ireland, followed by a good few drinks of Paddy's whiskey. This is after I asked the barman for something 'tasty and a bit rough'. After tasting a small tot...much to his surprise I took a 20 pound note from my back pocket and purchased the bottle. Say no more.
Back to Wednesday, or Thursday then, to be exact. I came to on the couch rather worse for wear, with various huge bruises, but no toothache, much to my relief!
The pain had returned by evening and after going through an uncomfortable weekend, I returned tonight. I was still hoping to escape the fate of another rootcanal, but Dr Matt says its a textbook case, the pain hits you just as you think you are ready to fall asleep. Horrible. Anyway, no way out of this one.
I do have a few blessings to count, one of which is a really funny book written by a South African, John van de Ruit. It is called Spud, a story set in a boy's boarding school in SA. It was the perfect antidote to get my of my own suffering, and I highly recommend it.
"There was never yet philosopher
ReplyDeleteThat could endure the toothache patiently."