Hey all. Apologies for the slowdown in posting, but I've had a pile on my plate as late, foremost among them being a friggin' root canal this afternoon. If you enjoy carnage, read on. If not, why not come back in a few days?
About two weeks back, my sister treated us to a lovely kinda-end-of-summer lobster dinner with corn on the cob and the whole nine, and afterwards, something didn't feel quite right. Initially, I thought it was just something stuck between my teeth (the lobster's last laugh, perhaps?), but spirited flossing produced nothing but foul-tasting rivulets of blood (I would make a lousy vampire). After a week of blossoming discomfort, I eventually threw in the bloody towel and went to see my dentist. As it turns out, some ancient filling that was put up in there sometime during my teens (and there were a few of them, worryingly) was no longer doing the job and decay was gradually engulfing the nerve. As such, my dentist told me to call this other dentist to set up a root canal appointment. Thrills. Sadly, that couldn't happen until four days later. That appointment was today.
If you're truly curious about the specifics of a root canal, I'm afraid I couldn't really tell you (and I didn't ask), but if you do a Google image search, one of the several disquieting visuals that are conjured will probably give you a good idea. As far as my own experience this afternoon is concerned, my root canal's gondolier had precious little time for gentility and went right to work inserting as many sharp, uncomfortable metal instruments in my mouth as he could fit. I suppose I should thank him for numbing me up before hand, but three hours later, I'm still numb (and can't eat until that wears off). As a bonus, I'm told "it'll probably hurt for a few days." To combat same, I was given prescriptions for some antibiotics and a couple of notorious pain-thwarting pharmaceuticals that could probably fetch a fair price on certain shady street corners. I'm dearly hoping I shan't have to employ them.
In any case, that's the story. In the interim, I'll be here ... waiting for the numbness to subside. By the way, that's not my mouth at the top of this post, rather it's an image I brazenly appropriated from the iconic cover of Filth by the suitably pain-obsessed, headachey NYC combo, Swans. That record is kinda like a root canal for the ear. And I mean that in a good way.