On the Pull
It's kind of amazing, and a little frightening, how easily a tooth can be pulled out of your head extracted. I was a little nervous all weekend about this morning's yank, but the broken bicuspid has come and gone without incident.
Well, no incident unless you count the very long dream I had last night where I was sitting in room waiting for the Reservoir Dogs to slice my ear off. True story. I kept thinking it was a dream and telling myself to wake up, but I couldn't. Especially nice touch when Steve Buscemi told me it wasn't a dream and to quit fidgeting, I'd only make it worse.
"You're going to feel some pressure," said Dr. C (the not-so-demonic dentist of Fleet Street ... yes, I had dental work done on Fleet Street). Some pressure, a few lovely cracking noises, and then he asked the nurse to hold my head still, while he pushed and pulled a little harder. Fortunately, the radio was tuned to a classic station, not classic rock, and I didn't have to listen to "Stuck in the Middle with You" while he reached for the straightrazor pliers.
All hail the 3-part yoga breath and visualizations of warm sandy beaches and a naked chef preparing easy-to-chew soups.
From first novocaine injection to toothless hole, it was less than 20 minutes. Novocaine's wearing off, codeine's kicking in, and I'm meeting him for vodkas in a few hours.
Have to wait a few months for it all to heal and get a crown or implant. So now I'm one of those lovely people with a missing tooth. You can take the boy out of the trailer park ...
If only I could get an appointment with Madam Pomfrey to re-grow my tooth, I'd be a happy bunny.
Speaking of Hogwart's, should anyone wants to discuss offline (no spoilers for the slower readers), I think I was the first kid on my block to know who the half-blood prince is (not who I thought), as well as any other of the twists and turns of HP's sixth year. A perfect way to spend a sunny Sunday.
JK's got a lot of work to do in the next book, eh?