Before lapsing into another recap, I figure I should keep my readers informed of my current goings-on. Yesterday, I went to the dentist to have that LARGE, troublesome tooth extracted from its rightful place in my mouth. I'd been petrified about it all week, and the second I got to the dentist's office, the nerves hit. I had to sit through a cleaning. Let me just stop for a moment and say that I fucking hate having my teeth cleaned too. Those fucks are never gentle (despite saying Gentle Dental on the outside of the building), and my mouth is always left bleeding from their attempt to cleave my gums in two with dental floss. This time around was worse, because even though I told her that my molar was being extracted, and that it hurt, she insisted upon spraying her fucking jet of water on it twice. The second time, I groaned in pain and she apologized mildly. Bitch.

When I was sitting in the room to have my tooth out, it really hit me. This would be the last time in my life with all of my teeth. I would be the last fully toothed member of my family. It didn't help that the dentist and dentist's assistant were under the impression that I was there to be prepped for a root canal. I had to tell them, "No. I'm having it pulled. I can't afford a root canal," in a small, embarrassed voice. That's what took away my resolve not to cry. The dentist's assistant, Eric came in and stuck a stick full of topical anesthetic in my mouth to numb the area for the Novocain shot. This was it, I couldn't back out now.

The dentist came in and gave me the shots. I made a lot of noise on the first one. Later he said, "You should have told me you wanted the gas right away, we would have given it to you for the shot." Well, shit. That would have been nice, since I had already worked myself up into tears. Oh well. The apparatus was soon placed over my nose and we sat while I numbed and relaxed and the dentist told me about kicking his friend's ass at basketball, ten times in a row.

If they thought that the Novocain and nitrous oxide would be enough to calm me so they could yank a giant molar with a pair of pliers, they were sadly mistaken. So, I'm lying there, mouth open, and in they reach with these pliers and just start pulling and twisting. I can literally feel my jaw twist. I begin groaning, because it feels like fucking hell. Eric holds my hand while this is going on, which is the sweetest fucking thing ever. The dentist stops and determines that the tooth ain't gonna come out that way. So he begins to drill holes in it. Then he sticks in this awl type object and pries at the tooth. Crunching is heard. That was nearly unbearable, but ANYTHING is better than the simple yank that they thought they were going to accomplish. The drilling, digging and yanking continues for another thirty minutes or so, Eric, an ever present friend, wiping my tears with sterile gauze and just being a set of gorgeous hazel eyes rimmed with velvet lashes between his mask and surgical cap.

Finally, it is announced that 90% of the tooth is gone. The part that is left is the root with a hook on it. Digging and yanking and crunching occurs and it is finished. Gauze is crammed into my mouth and I open my eyes. They are still wet. I don't really feel relieved because it doesn't feel like it was for my own good.

I get my prescriptions, instructions and gauze from Eric the beautiful Russian (for lack of better knowledge about his origins) dental assistant and jump in my car, headed for my parents' home.

I'll skip the whole of the day and just tell you that I'm alright. Yes, there's a gaping hole in my mouth, but I'll live.

Kelly