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now with 33% less wisdom! OR "why thomas isn't in camp on a weekday" |
| by comrade commissar | Thomas | @ Wednesday, May 11, 2005, 4:59:00 PM | permalink |
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The torment lasted till 2 in the morning. Fatigue and pain blurred into one in those hours as the escape of sleep eluded me. So much for melodramatics. Below's the interesting part of my wisdom tooth extraction experience. The aching didn't subsided the next day, got worst in fact. In a foul mood, I decided to report sick and head down to the Tekong Medical Centre to get rid of my pain-like-a-mofo of a tooth. Making an appointment in advance is very important. It ensures that you are promptly attended to upon arrival. Otherwise, as a matter of principle and to be fair to other patients, you will have to take a number and wait for your turn.  No, a universe-shattering -in-a-world-of-pain- colours-dulling-into-monochrome toothache is a poor excuse for requesting to skip the 4 hours wait that I spent in the polar sub-zero temperature environment of a waiting area. Call to schedule an appointment next time.My number was eventually called after eons and lifetimes past. I struggled to warm my stiffened muscles back to life as I waded down the icy corridor to the assigned dental op room, passing by the previous patient along the way. Was I hallucinating from the cold and pain, or did he try to warn me by grimacing for a nanosecond? I knocked and entered the room in time to note that Dashboard Confessional's Vindicated was playing on the radio, situated at the corner of the room on a desk. Maybe its me, but I've never heard music, or any other sounds other than the bare minimum neccessary in dentists' rooms. Traditionally, you should be able to put "dentist rooms" in the same category as "library supervised by the Gestapo" or "hall with major exam in progress". I'm usually not a conservative, I still enjoy my rock music. But I draw the line at listening to Chris Carrabba screaming "VINDICATED! I AM SELFISH I'M WRONG!" while having my tooth surgically removed. Its about as appropriate as having a clown juggle at your funeral. "Sit down." The bespectacled man said in a sympathetic tone. I gathered from this that he is good-temperated and genial. Good, very good. After having me sit at the operating chair, he proceeded to ask some questions about my problem. This was interrupted occasionally by Joe Augustin and Maggie keeping us informed with tidbits of red herring like how Agassi lost his recent match and Man U faces denial of a place in the Champions League. Grasping a rough idea of the situation at hand, the dentist asked me to open my mouth wide like 'AHHH". Visual confirmation established, he makes some final checks on the Source Of All Pain And Suffering On This Side Of Earth. Mouth agape, completely helpless and vulnerable, I feel as significant around this point as a mongrel stray cat about to be put to sleep. The man prepares his weapons of choice.. and then asked which uni was I going to. I almost said meow. "Ahhh? Ah nat shurr waa- I'm not sure where yet. Haven't decided." "Oh, ok. Open your mouth." It is at this critical moment when Power 98 decided to play, of all the suitable sad, slow, sober songs in the world, 50 Cent's Candy Shop. W T F. I thought I heard the dentist sing along to it. Looking up at the ceiling and the bright operating light, I was frozen solid. I was afraid, not so much of the extraction procedure, but more that if I sat up and turned my head, I might catch a glimpse of the probably-in-his-30s man shakin' his booty, holding a surgical-gloved hand in a fist as a imaginary microphone to his mouth (the other hand shaking the silvery anaesthetic syringe bling-bling for added effect) lip-synching animatedly to the song. As the dentist readied the syringe to be injected into my gums, Olivia seductively sang "I'll take you to the candy shop~" The cosmos then resounded with the impact of the supernatural eternal laugh track. 4 jabs of Lidocaine at separate areas around the extraction site. (Yes, ouch.) Dentist does some quick checks by tapping on gums, the culprit tooth. ("Does this hurt?" "Nuuh." "OK.") After some deliberating over which of his pliers (they call it 'tooth extracting forceps') to use, he decided on one. I imagine it must be like choosing the 3-iron over the 5-iron for its better control and drive. There was no *plop!* or anything. It was out. I was given a piece of gauze to stop the bleeding, a few instructions to collect medicine at the dispensary.. I was good to go. That wasn't so bad after all. "Oh yah, please make another appointment soon." His voice echoed from inside the room as I walked out. "I need to look at that other wisdom tooth on your lower left side. Looks problematic too." |
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Tooth fairy mine. Tooth. Fairy. Mine.
- by comrade 
Jeiel Aranal @ times 3:58 AM, May 14, 2005
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Hey there.
Funny post.
By the way, which dentist were you at?
- by comrade 
@ times 3:08 AM, May 15, 2005
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Umm.. Pulau Tekong Medical Centre Dentistry :D
- by comrade Thomas @ times 2:32 PM, May 15, 2005
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by the way, thanks for being cool abt the morning show comment.
- by comrade Thomas @ times 2:43 PM, May 15, 2005
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Always happy to hear someone was listening - even if they were under the influence of pain-killers.
- by comrade @ times 3:16 PM, May 16, 2005
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