Sitting in the chair, looking at the wall: Grey to the left, yellowish on the right side. An air-conditioner humming. Distant music, very distant, something classic. On the ceiling they pinned a kind of poster, blue deep, kind of fish to the sides – remembered a very old screen-saver …
I wiggled my toes in my shoes. That reminded me of Bukowksy, who once describes as he sits on a chair and waits and wiggles his toes, because nothing else is to be done. Hank is dead.
Then she comes in, thin, energetic, strong handed, freckled. And yes, we will remove this tooth now, shouldn’t be a problem. It became a problem. After 40 minutes working, drilling and asking “for the big one”, we took another x-ray. Obviously the one-sided-rotten baby-tooth on it’s other side was nearly unbreakable. She called her colleague and they had a conference. They decided to drill on. My remarks about quality-teeth and whether I would make it into a magazin-article were not helpful. At least she laughed. After 80 minutes they gave up – if the remaining ruins do not come out after that, they will stay there for the rest of my time. They pampered the crater and handed me the pain-killers. I asked for “H” but was denied. Instead they gave me a paper with the “Don’ts”. Sadly I am not allowed to get awfully drunk this evening and may not have coffee tomorrow. I drove home.
After some hours I could feel my tongue and different parts of my face again. Whatever she injected into the flesh of my mouth before starting to pull – I am very thankful for it.
Maybe in three months she’ll attack the one on the other side of the jaw.