Ok, so finally my days of being a slave to dental experiments are over. Hopefully.
They didn't give me adamantium inserts though *sigh*. I could have been the next Wolverine, albeit a tusked version.
After two weeks of being extremely careful and surviving on food which exists only in the fourth physical state of matter, my agonies are over. I can now, provided an opportunity, chew on mastodon bones.
The apex of my traumatic dental life of the past two weeks, was the time I had gone to this expensive-as-hell hospital to get the annoying wisdom tooth treated. I spent a ludicrous amount only to learn that the belligerent tooth must be surgically removed and was asked to report two days later. I promptly called up my health insurance guy and was informed that my official health insurance did not cover dental. Well I am pretty sure even if it had been something else, like euthanasia, it would have been out of the purview of my official health insurance plan. Official health insurance plans have this knack of avoiding just the malaise that you need it to cover at any particular instance of the space time continuum.
So whatever, I decided a la John Wayne, " a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do".
Two days later, I promptly landed up at the site of the massacre. Now, at this point , I was like at the threshold of life as I knew it. From where I stood, all that lay ahead of me was days of survival sans proper food. My future meals from here on promised foreboding pictures of cerelac and such non-food. To say nothing of the emotional trauma of losing a wisdom tooth, maybe it would make me dumb,paralyse me from carrying on future voluntary motor activities.
Evidently at such delicate precipices of life, you need some moral support...like say a nurse from Nurse Me or a doctor to whom you can smile and say "Yeah! Go right ahead Doc, remove my lower jaw bone, I do not mind at all".
But no, what I got instead was nurses who had sideburns longer than Wolverine's. As for the doctor, well she was sweet and all, but this piece of conversation that happened between her and her attendant while I was lying tranquilised and open jawed, was unsettling, especially when you are at their mercy:
Doc: The tooth is not coming out. Give me larger tools.
Att: Ah ok.
Doc: It is too firm.It's not moving. Maybe we need to cut the jaw bone. Get me the bone cutter.
Att: Bone cutter?
Doc (smiles at me): Don't worry. You've been very co-operative so far. Just raise your hand if it becomes too painful.
Att: Here's the bone cutter.
[My jaws which were already open were about to hit the floor at this point, evidently she notices the expansive effect of the bone cutter]
Doc: Ok. Lets try one more time before we cut the jaw bone.
[Oh Merciful Lord, thank you, thank you.]
Thankfully, the bone cutter was not required. However the next few days I was on a non-food food diet. As is the rule of the cosmos, all parties, happened just during this phase. So there I was feasting on porridgey stuff, while all the kebabs and tandooris taunted me.
Today I was released from my serfdom to porridgey food. Bring on the pork ribs!!