I never get headaches. Never say never I'm told, and that must be true as I squint my eyes against the glare of my laptop screen and the gentle throbbing in my right temple. It's like Chinese water torture. Drip, drip, drip over and over onto the exact same spot. In my mind, I'm screaming at the top of my lungs to ease the irritation and somehow interrupt this continuous annoyance. I become aware that I am sighing heavily.
I have a dentist appointment tomorrow. Several weeks before Easter, I awakened to sharp pain in one of my right bottom molars. The pain was radiating everywhere and was so intense that I had a difficult time pinpointing exactly which tooth it was. I had it narrowed down to 2 or 3 teeth and the pain seemed to originate below the gum line. I had eaten popcorn and assumed that one of those papery kernel pieces had worked it's way between tooth and gum. As I have often done throughout the years, I decided that I could heal myself just by believing I could. I used all the great tricks of the ancient ones; warm salt water rinses 3 or more times a day accompanied by baking soda and peroxide paste. The pain resolved itself and I felt triumphant right up until I discovered the source of the pain was not a popcorn kernel but a broken tooth!
As the weeks have progressed, what began as what felt like a small crack now feels like the Grand Canyon running through the middle of my tooth. In my mind, I recall my mother's voice saying, "Angelia, STOP using your teeth as tools!" I tried. Really, I did, but sometimes those tubes of acrylic paint need a little help. I wish I had treated those molars with a little more respect. Now, I must come face to face with my arch nemesis: THE DENTIST. I'm going to a new dentist tomorrow. He was recommended to me by my son's girlfriend, and I'm going to try my best not to embarrass her. I'll give him my best smile and warmest handshake, but really, I'll be screaming silently and sighing heavily.