Tuesday, December 16, 2014

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I am slowly clawing my way back to normalcy--or what passes for it with me. I am not there yet, obviously, but I am closer than I was even yesterday, having woken with an alarm rather than out of a haze of fatigue far later than I had wanted to do. And I am writing before I tend to a number of other things (but not all, as some needs allow no delay in their meeting), which is also a good sign.

Today will see me go to the dentist for a regular checkup and cleaning. I expect that the dentist will find another cavity in my mouth; I brush regularly, but floss far less so, and I think I felt the little divot in my enamel form. It does not bother me at this point, but I have no doubt that the dentist will want to schedule a time for me to come in and get it filled--if it is there as I expect. And while I doubt that this dentist will treat me poorly, I am always apprehensive about making such a visit; I do not have the best history when it comes to that particular sort of doctor.

I do not mean to include the idiocies of my childhood in the account. I do not think that any kid does terribly well with the dentist or the orthodontist, although I admit that I was likely worse than most in my responses. No, what comes to mind is an experience I had while living in The City, one I had while I had excellent dental coverage but less excellent dentists to visit. And, as it happened, I had a cavity in one of my wisdom teeth. (I still have all four. That one had a hole in it has some symbolic resonance, I am certain. I am equally certain I do not want to explicate it.) The dentist who worked on it was an Eastern European gentleman, and I am sure that he was competent, but he was notably lacking in patient relations. He barked commands--almost literally, although it might have been a language barrier issue--and, when I had difficulty opening my mouth wide enough to ease his access, he jammed a rubber stop between my jaws.

My lips split, and my lower jaw was sore for a week afterwards.

I changed dentists after the event, as could be expected, and I did so again perforce after moving from The City to Where the Wind Comes Sweeping Down the Plain. The one I am visiting today is gentle enough, and he expressed shock when I told him of my earlier experience; I do not think the technique is commonly taught in this part of the world, and I do not have any expectation that I will find a chock in my mouth again. Even so, I can already feel a twinge in my lower jaw, and it is not at all a comfortable sensation.

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