Saturday, February 06, 2016


 Minor medical miracle this evening. For about a month now, amongst the other stupid stuff I’ve been dealing with, I had this pain on the left side of my jaw where my wisdom tooth was taken out a couple of years ago. After a couple of weeks I went to the dentist because I could feel something small poking out of the gum. Dentist takes a look, says it’s probably something like a bit of leftover tooth stuck in there, but, it’s near where a nerve is, so he refers me to a surgeon rather than taking it out himself. I go to the surgeon in the middle of January and they take x-rays. He says the pictures don’t show any fragments so it’s probably a growth of bone from my jaw. Fucking seriously? I mean I know weird medical shit starts happening around my age, but seriously, that can happen? Okay, so what’s the solution? Well, he says, we basically shoot me up with a local and file down my fucking jaw there. Yep. Centuries of medical science culminates in a guy with lidocaine and power tools. Whatever, it’s been a couple of weeks, it’s getting annoying so I say let’s do this. The catch is, he’s going on vacation so the earliest I can line up the schedule is Feb. 17. So that’s like another month I’m going to be dealing with this stupid thing. Fine, it’s not like it’s a stab wound, I'm not thrilled, but I can wait.

Here’s where it gets fun. I went in yesterday to get a filling done on my right side. Not too bad, but still feels weird when I chew on that side, so I’m stuck eating on the side with the, whatever the fuck it is, sticking out of my gum. Four bites into the sandwich I’m having for dinner, there’s a small crunchy bit. This is not what I expect from cold cuts, cheese, lettuce and tomato on French bread. I mean in theory, I guess it’s what I would expect from a McRib or something from like, Starbucks, but not from a sandwich. Turns out the, whatever the fuck it was, got stuck in a piece of bread and was pulled free. So no need for some, mini power-sander wielding ninja to poke around my gumline because I don’t need surgery. A $5 sandwich, which could have used some better mustard and a little less mayo, turns out to be better medicine than a dentist, an x-ray machine and a surgeon who couldn’t see me for another two fucking weeks anyway.

Also, according to spellcheck I don’t know how to spell sandwich. Fuck you spellcheck I can spell sandwidch.


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