number15

My rearmost upper molar on the left was removed this morning. The procedure took under 20 minutes from start to finish. The tooth split completely in twain sometime in December. Front to back; two pieces. Even the surgeons were impressed. I believe a peppercorn embedded in a hunk of Soppressata salami is to blame. We'll never know; I swallowed the evidence months ago.

I feel so much better. A great tension melted away the moment it came out. I guess walking around with a broken tooth for months causes stress. It's still better than my last job. My asthma and sinuses seem to be settling down also, but it's early days. I have a doctor's appointment scheduled next week one way or the other.

The oral surgery center is in the Navy Yard, so I took the opportunity to explore the snowy shipyard while waiting for a Lyft to take me home. A few police cruisers sniffed me out a little but decided it was too cold to be curious. They were right, too. It was bitter, almost like the winters of yore.

On the ride home, the novocaine began to wear off, and a fair amount of discomfort moved on in, so I took an Aleve, called out sick, and slept for five hours, occasionally waking to change my gauze. I'm back up on my feet now. The wound seems to be clotting okay. No more need for gauze, I don't think.

Part of me wants to catch up on the work I missed today, but the older parts know it's better to rest and recover than grind away and try to push through. I will rest up and listen to a stack of used CDs I ordered from Decluttr instead. Adam Ant, Echo & the Bunnymen, Morphine — that sort of sound.

I'm not allowed to eat solid foods for a few days. Tonight, I have two kinds of ice cream for dinner. I'm excited.