Was I hit by a truck? No, no... It was oral surgery. Why do I feel so awful? The pain was worse before. I think I’m okay.
The phone rings. “How are you?” asks the henchman, I mean receptionist for the evil oral surgeon.
“I lived through the night,” I reply, even though I want to say “sleeping.”
Sleeping is a good thing when your mouth feels like it was put through a meat grinder and your body is in a state of shock. No he wasn’t evil, but he wasn’t gentle either. I have a small mouth and I just don’t get why men with fat fingers go in to dentistry. We’ve had this talk before.
The phone rings again. It’s another receptionist. This one works for my regular dentist, the one who sent me to this hacker.
“How are you?” she says.
Again I want to say “sleeping,” but I manage to say “I lived through the night.”
Questions with no answer:
1. Why do teeth tend to flare up on weekends?
2. Why does your dentist’s son get married on the very day that you need him?
3. Why do they ask you if you are okay when you are moaning in pain?
I plan on feeling better tomorrow. In the meantime…