So, again, it's been a little while. Sorry. I've only recently managed to scratch my way out from under a pile of grading and genius level self-sabotage. And what greeted me in the free and rarefied air?
A tooth extraction.
Now, I've needed to get this sucker yanked for the past year. It's not that I've got bad teeth (best my parents' orthodontist could provide) and I do take care of them, but I have a small jaw. A VERY small jaw in a rather round face. I also inherited my father's enormous teeth, and they just don't fit. My roots poke out through my gums, become infected, and I want to die of pain. Ergo, I had my lower back molars root canaled ages ago. It might have been six or seven years now (holy shit, am I really that old?!) and once the root is gone, the tooth is dead. This effectively means that no matter how precious you are about what you chew and how well you brush, they become brittle and crumble like chalky cement. It's no fun, and if you'd like a story, ask a friend of mine what it's like when yours truly turns to you just before holy communion and holds out her hand with a visible chunk of tooth in it and smiles, leaking blood from the corner of her mouth. Yeah, I have good friends.*
This whole matter is complicated by the fact that I've still not managed to get registered at a dentistry here in the UK. It is almost entirely covered on the NHS, but the demand far outstrips supply. Additionally, I don't have a car, so if I can't easily get there via bus (wherever there might happen to be) I don't go. Luckily, there's the Dental Information and Advice Line and the kind people there sorted me out an emergency appointment at the dentist office here on campus. This is where this gets unfortunate.
The dentist was a tiny little polish woman who clearly knew her stuff but just couldn't generate the leverage or strength to RIP THE MASSIVE, DISINTEGRATING MOLAR FROM MY ACHING HEAD. Pliers only crumbled it further, and even with a very kind, soft-spoken hygienist holding my hand the pain and pressure was dizzying. Eventually the dentist had to cut it out and that's where the trouble lies-- in addition to using the rest of my jaw for leverage, tearing the corner of my mouth with just the pressure of trying to twist it out, and bashing the rest of my teeth to get to it in the first place, I have a raw red cavity where the tooth finally gave it up.
They prescribed me an antibiotic, the most interesting thing about which being the repetitive and numerous strongly-worded warnings from everyone who mentioned it not to drink any alcohol at any point whatsoever lest I be instantly violently ill (and maybe cause a fleet of Chinese mathematicians to divide by zero and end reality as we know it). What they didn't mention was that a FULL WEEK ON I would still be awoken at night by searing, stabbing pain. I've now finished my course of antibiotics and, while shivering in agony in bed in the wee hours of this morning, I decided to call the emergency help number on the paperwork with which they sent me home and see precisely what was up. I get an appointment at 11 this morning. If this is socialism, sign me up.
The good news is that it isn't infected and it seems to be healing well. She referred to it as a "very traumatic extraction" and apparently the gum around where the tooth used to be bore the brunt of the assault and that's what's causing the stabbing pain in what feels like my ear canal. I'd never felt like I'd been shanked with a stiletto in the ear before, and the lance of pain down my neck/throat was a new and exciting twist to the devil's grab-bag of masochism I'm collecting. The dentist flushed the socket for me, repacked it with more antiseptic gauze (half of which has already fallen out) and sent me on my way with an antiseptic mouthwash to use twice daily for the next week or two (but not any longer because apparently it stains the teeth... fantastic).
It's not infected. It's healing well. It may very well and in all likelihood continue to hurt this badly for the next week. Awesome.
