Wednesday, January 31, 2007
17th Street Root Canal
I was in raw agony, the worst pain I've ever experienced as a human, for three days. Then yesterday I visited Dr. Lisa Germain, who said the sweet words, "You need a root canal."
Sweet words? Well, consider that this meant she was going to inject vast quantities of numbing elixir into my mouth. Consider that until I walked into her office, I considered head amputation to be a viable treatment for what I was experiencing. Consider that I was remembering with relish the scene in "Castaway" in which Tom Hanks becomes his own dentist using an ice skate.
An hour later, I was the lion who has had the thorn removed from his paw. I am becoming emotional as I type this, such is the relief I am experiencing.
Dr. Germain labeled me a "true dental emergency," saying that she gets about one of those per month. I was Mr. January. Thank you, Dr. Germain.
NOTE: My trivial root canal is nothing compared to the battle being waged at NO Pickles. Go cheer that man on. He's a tough mofo, but allies in his war can only help.