So I've had this tooth (Lower left wisdom tooth) that's been decaying and rotting for more than a decade. I remember the first piece broke off the day before my great-grandmother's funeral, back in 2004, while down in Algadones, Mexico, eating tacos and drinking beer, because that's just how we roll. Anyways, pieces of it have been breaking off for years, with the occasional toothache. Usually some Ibuprofen and a Z-Pack (Broad spectrum antibiotic) would deal with it. But I avoided the dentist for a long time. Over 25 years actually, which I suppose is generally not a good idea. So anyways, the week before Christmas, toothache. Ibuprofen, and Aceteminophen, and a Z-Pack couldn't quite deal with it, but the pain mostly subsided. But I persevered. Saturday, the gums on the outside of that tooth swelled up all huge, which was freaky. So more antibiotics, more pain relievers, and a desperate search for a dentist consumed much of my weekend.
Apparently dentists don't like working on the weekend, understandable, but annoying. Not even 1-800-Dentist could help me. So I kinda just dealt with it, hoping there'd be no fever or anything. Got a dentist to see me this morning, and after X-Raying, he said he was really glad I came in, and wished I'd come in sooner. There were lots of words he used, abscess, dead nerve. The abscess was dangerously close to some nerve that goes along the inside of your jaw, and is really important. So he referred me to an oral surgeon.
Now, the oral surgeon had to not only yank the tooth, but also cellate, or whatever that word is, the abscessed area, because of the infection. He repeatedly tried to make the local anasthetic work, because they knew I was paying cash, and would be walking home. But no matter how much they tried, no matter how much the rest of my mouth was numbed out, that tooth was still agony to touch. For those who don't know, infections can render something like a local anasthetic useless, the acid in the infection reacts to the anasthetic, and it just doesn't go. That part of it was a rather painful experience, since they'd test things out, jamming something hard against the tooth to see if the local had done its job. Ouch, and bleeding.
Luckily, I was able to get a hold of a relative who lives nearby to give me a ride home, and then it was laughing gas time. First few breaths it didn't really do anything, but wow, that stuff kicked in real nice. They also ran an IV, loading up my body with something. So then, I went from breathing deep of the happy gas, to being semi-lucid and conscious. I've never been under sedation before, so it was a trip. It wasn't like what I expected. I expected it to be like sleep, maybe dream or something. But it was weird. Really weird. Breathing the stuff in, getting high and happy. Then bam, they were done.
They also were kind enough to give me a prescription for Percocets, and when I got home I took two. These things are really nice. This is my first experience with percocets, they're not like weed, which as we all know, is super happy fun time. This is more like, everything's just relaxed. An extremely welcome absence of pain.
I remember a time in my life, where I actually got a sort of rush from pain. Back in my youth, riding a skateboard like a maniac. Road rash was an exhilarating experience. Slamming staples in my arm was an amusing pasttime. Putting smiley faces on my arm was the biggest thrill pain though. Just an absolute rush. Like an angry orgasm. The burning flesh sending this wonderfully electric feeling through my body.
But you know what? As much as I enjoyed those life affirming pains, a toothache just fucking sucks. And I really enjoy these percocets. I wish I could share them with all of you, so you could all feel this wonderful high. But I can't, so instead, I'll share some lovely music.
I've recently come to appreciate Jazz. Not the new stuff, not that smooth jazz, radio friendly tapioca pudding enema. But jazz. Some of it has even caused me to sort of question my lack of belief in a higher power. You've got those dickhead preachers preaching and stuff, but that's not god or goddess, or the universe, or the weaves of life, or whatever you want to call your higher power. That's just a person talking.
Miles Davis on the other hand. Miles Davis spoke the language of that power. It's as if he were somehow attuned to the sounds of the universe, what it tries to say, and was able to convey that to the rest of us, mere mortals. My words fall short of it of course, because the universe doesn't talk in words.
That's what is sounds like when God talks through someone.
With all the recent love of goats, I'm reminded of my grandmother's goat, Wilbur. Wilbur was the sweetest, friendliest, most playful goat I've ever met. He loved to play with me, where I'd grab his horns and we'd wrestle. He'd sometimes gently but his head up against me, wanting to play. Goats.