A Heretical Tooth!

After one hour and a half of constant tugging, pulling, pushing and poking, my dentist gave up. “Keep the damn tooth,” he said. “I just wanted to pull it out because it has no counterpoint on the lower jaw, which could be problematic in future. But, if it’s going to give us that much headache now, perhaps you should just live with it for a while longer.”

I couldn’t agree more. Preemption is not always the most viable way to go. This little battle with the Tooth is going to cost me a few days work, and is going to exacerbate my ability to handle pain. I am not as good at it as I used to be.

Years go, my doctor had to hammer and chisel my wisdom tooth out, and I still managed to quip, while prepping my jaw up with my left palm, about the possibility of striking oil and dividing shares. This time though I almost fainted.

Still, there is an upside to this. As an Arab liberal, there was really nothing I can look up to these days as symbol of resistance in the face of adversity. Now I have my own Tooth. Hail the Tooth. Hollowed by the Tooth, all praise goes to the Tooth.

Now, I am going to take my medicine and go to sleep, because, like all objects of worship, the Tooth is actually torturing me. It’s killing me. Fuck the Tooth. I guess I am a blasphemous heretic by nature. I am beyond redemption or salvation even when the deity or messiah concerned is my own tooth.

If none of this made any sense, or if it sounded too banal, just remember I am pumped full of painkillers. I am not supposed to make sense. I am just supposed to gripe, and I guess I am doing a pretty good job at it.