|pic from Morguefile|
On the third night, in the kitchen, I sat by the table. The orange pill bottle thrown in frustration sat atop the linoleum floor. I took the round pill, tried shoving it past my tongue, down my throat. It wouldn't budge. I took the handle of a spoon and tried pushing the pill past my throat, again, no luck. I could no longer swallow. If only I could swallow this pain pill there would be no more pain...at least for a little while.
An abscess had taken over my face, my neck (so I now looked like the Nutty Professor ~ four chins and all) and now it conquered my tongue, moving stealthily down my throat, with a vengeance I did not understand nor comprehend.
When your body turns on you, it is a humbling experience.
I was afraid.
Now, a week later, I am sharing with you the bulk of my holidays. I traded in my candy canes for antibiotics. I spent my holidays in the hospital because of an abscessed tooth. Anyone who has ever endured this pain, understands my plight. It is so hard for me to still wrap my head around the fact that this tiny little tooth could overrun my body with such force that it has made me rethink the "control" I think I have over myself and my little world. Another life lesson to learn from. I'm just glad to report that I get the last words: "Well, Mr. Molar #31. You don't want to be part of the team anymore? Then, you. are. out. of. here! Game over."
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