As I was chewing toast yesterday morning (well, what did you think I ate for breakfast ?)the strange pink plaster that had been covering dearly departed tooth #12's cellar hole came off. The dentist has warned me that it might, and I was not to fret.
It had stayed put, after all, for ten days, providing my tongue with many interesting moments of exploration. She had also warned me not to fret about any errant "granules" that might be extruded from the site. I'd tuned her out at that point. "Extruding granules" was far too creepy.
So after I'd swallowed the toast and probably some remnant bits of strange pink plaster, I approached the site with my tongue. Gingerly. There was the row of rough, catgut sutures on the gum. And there, beneath them, horrible, unplumbable, the abyss. The Gap. We're not talking neat piles of folded tee shirts here. We're talking open grave.
Oh. My. God. There's a CRATER up there ! No, an abandoned mine shaft ! A tunnel directly through cheekbone and eye socket right into my frontal lobe ! She did a friggin' LOBOTOMY and she never told me ! And she said she put GRANULES up there ? What did she say they were ? Something about collagen ? Or was it silicone ? Naphthalene ? Botox ?
I took a deep breath. This was it. The moment of reckoning. I could feel my face beginning to collapse into the black hole in my right upper gum: lips, cheek, ear, eye, nose. Soon the rest of me would follow ! I was imploding ! Inverting ! I had to do something, and fast !
So I took a big, big bite of toast and hoped for the best.
No comments:
Post a Comment