My Pain

Friends, I've been out of commission. I mean, out of commission. It started with a molar extraction that went bad, very bad, in no time flat. First there was the exposed nerve that the Novocaine couldn't touch. Then there was the pesky, perverse reality that one of the roots had a hook at the bottom, thus making it impossible to just yank the thing out, necessitating instead that the tooth had to be cut out, bit by bit, with the result being that the trauma was exacerbated by a factor of, I don't know, a lot. Then there was the aftermath, featuring pain that radiated out from the point of trauma to colonize nearly the entire mouth. Evil. It was the kind of pain that has you counting the minutes until you can take your next dose, and then more often than not just saying, the hell with it, I'm taking those pills now. The kind of pain that has you in a constant negotiation with the doctor, stair-stepping up the intensity of the meds bit by bit until you finally get one that works. The kind of pain that has you questioning your karma. The kind that will make you religious like a foxhole believer, a proponent of intercessory prayer. That kind that turns a perfectly good bed into a sick bed. The kind that took too long to leave, but which hopefully is exiled for good now.