I’ve sprained both my ankles, tweaked my left knee more than twice, I have migraines everyday, I have lower back problems, and broke my heart on two ocassions. Needless to say, I have an incredibly high tolerance for pain. Surely, a toothache shouldn’t be that big of a problem.
Break it down for us, Bill:
For there was never yet a philosopher that could endure the toothache patiently.
– William Shakespeare, “Much Ado About Nothing”
For the past few days, I’ve been moaning and groaning not like a guy reaching orgasm prematurely, but out of pain. Animal-like noises, to be exact. No amount of painkiller or lidocaine patches can ever save me from the kind of excruciating pain on my wisdom tooth. So my mom made up my mind for me: I had to go to the dentist.
My dentist, a jovial middle-aged man who doesn’t have the rather acerbic tongue of my orthodontist when it comes to the sad state of my teeth, then started prodding around the tooth. The steel hook-like instrument (which, strangely enough, is called an “explorer”) then came upon the cause of my toothache: a small cavity. Like all dentists, he seemed to take delight in poking around the hole. Then he decided on giving me a temporary molar filling for now to keep the analgesic in, and in two weeks it would be time to fill it with amalgamated silver.
If you spent seven years or so in a dental chair because of braces, you would understand a thing or two about dentistry. But believe me, the pain involved is easier said than experienced.
Stupid homosexual tooth gnomes.