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All right, girlie, back in the saddle. That's enough dental ninnying from me. What will happen will happen, and obsessing serves no purpose. The tooth has settled, and I'm eating normally again. I have a comprehensive exam scheduled for next month to catch any more problems, but he's already said a filling is loosening and will need to be replaced, so there's at least one more trip under the needle and drill. I am not overjoyed, but it is what it is, and I'll just have to bull through it.
As a final dental aside, I was so worked up yesterday that I looked into special-needs dentistry specialists in Florida. Surely, I thought, they know how to handle patients like me. Why, my condition is listed as one of their areas of expertise. This will be great. They'll know just what to do, and I won't have to worry about living out my own Saw scenario.
Alas, 'twas not to be, for what was their specialized treatment protocol for which I would pay so dearly? A dose of Halcion. Just like my current dentist would give me for an extra two hundred bucks. I could probably get better results from liberal administration of Four Roses before my appointment, and for a tenth the price. Or just ask my neighbor where he gets his moonshine.
I finished Bazaar of Bad Dreams last night. The character voices and tone were hauntingly beautiful, and some of his most lingering and evocative imagery can be found in his non-supernatural stories, but I was first called to sit at his knee by his tales of undead pets and boogeymen in closets and pyrokinetic children and haunted hotels, and I miss that cool frisson of dread whenever he hit the mark. The melancholy of age has set in, and while that's to be expected from a man in his seventies, I can't follow him down that path so easily. The landmarks are unfamiliar, and I don't recognize their call. Still, "Summer Thunder" is a story of surpassing beauty, and his body of work will forever remain a national treasure.
As a final dental aside, I was so worked up yesterday that I looked into special-needs dentistry specialists in Florida. Surely, I thought, they know how to handle patients like me. Why, my condition is listed as one of their areas of expertise. This will be great. They'll know just what to do, and I won't have to worry about living out my own Saw scenario.
Alas, 'twas not to be, for what was their specialized treatment protocol for which I would pay so dearly? A dose of Halcion. Just like my current dentist would give me for an extra two hundred bucks. I could probably get better results from liberal administration of Four Roses before my appointment, and for a tenth the price. Or just ask my neighbor where he gets his moonshine.
I finished Bazaar of Bad Dreams last night. The character voices and tone were hauntingly beautiful, and some of his most lingering and evocative imagery can be found in his non-supernatural stories, but I was first called to sit at his knee by his tales of undead pets and boogeymen in closets and pyrokinetic children and haunted hotels, and I miss that cool frisson of dread whenever he hit the mark. The melancholy of age has set in, and while that's to be expected from a man in his seventies, I can't follow him down that path so easily. The landmarks are unfamiliar, and I don't recognize their call. Still, "Summer Thunder" is a story of surpassing beauty, and his body of work will forever remain a national treasure.
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