The most vivid mental image of the day: the dentist bent over me, holding my head still with one hand while pulling hard on my widom tooth with the other hand (all the while a fantastic creaking sound coming from the inside of my mouth). I do have to say, though, that the pulling of the last wisdom tooth went smoother than the pulling of the second to last wisdom tooth. When his gloved hands first dived inside my mouth I thought he was only doing the rubbing of the numbing gel in preparation for the nasty hurtful shooting of the novacaine. In fact the little prick I felt whilst he was rubbing around the upper back part of my mouth was the shot itself so that when the tools came into my mouth the second time I was surprised that the tooth pulling had already begun. But as I was listening to The Half Blood Prince audio book at the time, I was sufficiently distracted so it didn’t really bother me.
It was the antibiotic-type gel he put in my mouth after he sewed up the new hole in my mouth that placed a cringe on my face. The taste of that bile, my friends, makes one wonder just how safe it is to be placed inside the orifice that connects straight to my digestive system. Lead paint used to be considered safe, didn’t it? Maybe some day my children will wonder why I ever let a dentist put such unsafe material inside said orifice.
Oh, and Billy walked out on the job today at Samira’s. Guess it’s back to working 6 days a week again. Ug.