Just after three in the afternoon. Knock on the door. Betsy and Rocky. Checking up on me. Concerned they’d not seen me all day. I admitted I’d not slept, barely even dozed. Painkillers not making a dent, my face swollen with an ever present throbbing pulse. Waiting for the powerful antibiotics to reduce the swelling and permit the rogue tooth to be extracted.
They were polite but firm. I shouldn’t be accepting this degree of suffering. Betsy would run me back down to the nearby surgery. See if they could prescribe something stronger for the pain. I didn’t argue. For one thing, I knew they had my best interests at heart. They were right. So absorbed by the pain, I simply wasn’t thinking straight. I didn’t argue.
Less than fifteen minutes later I was in the chair. Feeling elated as the local anaesthetic quickly took hold. Positively savouring the absence of pain. Monte the dentist had been very clear. Such was the extent of the infection waiting any longer for the swelling to reduce wouldn’t make a jot of difference. Better to extract the tooth straightaway. I nodded in firm agreement. Just as I knew Betsy and Rocky would take care of me, I’d absolute trust in Monte from the moment I met him.
It took a while to extract the problem child. Last little bit of root proving particularly tricky. But I never felt – or saw – a thing. Eyes firmly closed. Vaguely aware of others coming and going. Almost intoxicated by the absence of suffering. A joyous feeling.
[The author is indebted to Betsy and husband Andy, Rocky, together with Monte the dentist and his team – Jennie, Rachel and Christy for all their help]
Leave a Reply