Today is Wednesday
-First off, I'd like to say thanks to everyone who gave me props for my poem; Mad love to all of you.
So today is Wednesday, as I have already noted which means many things I suppose, but right now, means this: Yesterday was Tuesday, my date with the masked man with pliers.
My lets-yank-your-teeth-out appointment was scheduled for 9am and like a good yankee infused naija chick I arrived early. Was this due to the fact that I could barely sleep the night before on account of the wicked jitterbugging occurring in my stomach? Perhaps because I woke up waaay too early and wondered if I really needed to have my offending molars removed? I do indeed believe so.
So I arrive early, and cop a chair avec un People magazine. Less than ten minutes later I hear my name being butchered and I realize my time has come. The assistant, lest call her Smiley Nurse proceeds to further butcher my name as she leads me to the Chair where the deed will go down. She smiles some words that I don't hear and trips-trops along in a merry way to call the Doctor. His name is Burns, but I think Plier-Man works better, don't you?
Anyway, Plier-Man comes in sporting a wide-as smile and we do the Doctor patient dance for a while, I get an X-ray, I wait. And wait. By now, Smiley Nurse has told me all about the only Nigerian she knows, Yemi something or other, and asks (of course) if I know him.She has also put a towel on my chest and another on my head, pinned them together an placed a suction tube over my shoulder. So I look like a little black Dutch girl and I wait some more.
Smiley Nurse checked on me about 5 times. Plier-Man was busy doing who knows what. I waited so long she offered me a magazine after walking in on my photo shoot; avec mon camera phone, tres chic. I waited so long I considered pretending I never came and just walking out. I ended up calling Smiley-Nurse over to remove the blue towels she encased me in so I could go to the bathroom.
Finally Plier-Man came. Enter syringe. Oh, wait, I mean needle. Enter really big needle into my sour gum. Three injections of local anesthetic and only one tear from me. Somewhere, someone thinks I deserve a cookie. Enter pliers. A bit of meringue with the pliers and pop-goes-the-upper left molar. Mr.Plier Man then starts on the lower one, you know, the impacted one. That means its coming out sideways, or was. Enter pain, like a slap in the dark. Needless to say, I got very acquainted with the needle yet again. Eventually Plier-Man finished his work and I got home at about 12.
- I've got a hole, a row of stitches and about 2 weeks of pity from my household. Then again, I'm also trapped in a world of pudding, Advil and antibiotics for a while. Just praying against a dry socket. Praying hard.
So today is Wednesday, as I have already noted which means many things I suppose, but right now, means this: Yesterday was Tuesday, my date with the masked man with pliers.
My lets-yank-your-teeth-out appointment was scheduled for 9am and like a good yankee infused naija chick I arrived early. Was this due to the fact that I could barely sleep the night before on account of the wicked jitterbugging occurring in my stomach? Perhaps because I woke up waaay too early and wondered if I really needed to have my offending molars removed? I do indeed believe so.
So I arrive early, and cop a chair avec un People magazine. Less than ten minutes later I hear my name being butchered and I realize my time has come. The assistant, lest call her Smiley Nurse proceeds to further butcher my name as she leads me to the Chair where the deed will go down. She smiles some words that I don't hear and trips-trops along in a merry way to call the Doctor. His name is Burns, but I think Plier-Man works better, don't you?
Anyway, Plier-Man comes in sporting a wide-as smile and we do the Doctor patient dance for a while, I get an X-ray, I wait. And wait. By now, Smiley Nurse has told me all about the only Nigerian she knows, Yemi something or other, and asks (of course) if I know him.
Smiley Nurse checked on me about 5 times. Plier-Man was busy doing who knows what. I waited so long she offered me a magazine after walking in on my photo shoot; avec mon camera phone, tres chic. I waited so long I considered pretending I never came and just walking out. I ended up calling Smiley-Nurse over to remove the blue towels she encased me in so I could go to the bathroom.
Finally Plier-Man came. Enter syringe. Oh, wait, I mean needle. Enter really big needle into my sour gum. Three injections of local anesthetic and only one tear from me. Somewhere, someone thinks I deserve a cookie. Enter pliers. A bit of meringue with the pliers and pop-goes-the-upper left molar. Mr.Plier Man then starts on the lower one, you know, the impacted one. That means its coming out sideways, or was. Enter pain, like a slap in the dark. Needless to say, I got very acquainted with the needle yet again. Eventually Plier-Man finished his work and I got home at about 12.
- I've got a hole, a row of stitches and about 2 weeks of pity from my household. Then again, I'm also trapped in a world of pudding, Advil and antibiotics for a while. Just praying against a dry socket. Praying hard.
Comments
Dont worry, the worst is over now.
Hope u grow some new tooth.