Mmmff....

Last week, you'll recall, I mentioned a wicked toothache.

Today was visit the dentist day (after getting some lignocaine from the chemist - drugstore to the northerners).

I don't know which was worse the actual work done or the skyrocketing anxiety levels. To give you an idea of my anxiety levels, let me tell you a true story.

When I was still a teenager, I had major surgery done. On what doesn't matter, but the significance is that the anethestist failed to use enough stuff and I ended up conscious during the procedure; conscious, but paralysed. "Pain? Let me tell you about pain!" Under general anesthetic, there is no painkiller and there ain't nuthin' you can do - at least back then.

Anyway, what it left me was a psychological resistence to even local anesthetics, not to mention a capacity for going into shock when general is used (made getting my wisdom teeth out a real treat for the hospital staff).

Before this visit to the dentist, my previous toothcare professional used three injections and it was still a painful experience. With the whiny drill and the dentist suggesting I hold still because he couldn't give me anymore, you can imagine what a devastating time I had of it.

Since then, visiting a doctor or a dentist, or anyone who inadvertantly inflicts pain on me, is a traumatic event. I now find getting stitches without a painkiller to be a non-event.

The dentist, who is charming, gentle and careful whacked two injections into my mouth and went to work. If not for the above unfortunate event, I would have had clenched fists and tensed muscles; instead, I was the picture of calm - on the outside. Inside, my heart was beating so hard I was sure he and the nurse could hear it, I had occasional shivers, a tight neck and surges of heat through my body, that drained away to leave me cold depending on what he was doing.

When he was done, I felt completely wrung out. Then, he gave me the bad news. Yep, I gotta have root canal work done. Twice. The shaking didn't start until I stepped out of the surgery and into the golden late afternoon.

Four hours later, I still have a bit of numbness, but it's not over. I'll have to go back a few times before he's done with me. Like the surgery I had done as a teenager to save my life, all I can do is tough it out.

A lot of people don't see a big deal in going to a dentist or a doctor, and more power to them. For me, it's a test of endurance. The phrase "this, too, shall pass" is more than a pithy aphorism, it's a lifeline, because I know damn well that, no matter how long I live, physical pain will be visited upon me - on us all - and there naught to do but endure.