Tag Archives: “a throbbing tooth ache of the mind”

Out of My Mind

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I went to a grade school talent show on Friday evening that lasted 2.5 hours. Yesterday we had Catholic brainwashing religious class, band festival at our local senior high school, gymnastics meet and team dinner. Today is the Chinese school New Year celebration performance: reporting for rehearsals at 9 am [it’s now 3 am] and we won’t be let out until 4 pm the earliest. My youngest has two book reports/reading projects due on Monday. I may have replied to my boss’ email yesterday and promised I would send out something this weekend…

If I survive this weekend…

The following are the thoughts that went through my head over the first half of the action-packed fun-filled weekend: [And if you are lucky, I may just spare you the second half]

Why am I here at the talent show? I must be the only parent here whose child is not in the show.

Ok. Do they just let anybody in the show? I guess it would have been mean to have some sort of application process and to insist on some criteria.

Look at all these extroverted kids on stage.

Look at all these people confusing ham-ish-ness with talent.

I like Bollywood song and dance and costume. I hope the older white couple behind me don’t die of shock.

Another Bollywood number? Well, Bollywood style dance is the only thing that can fill up this huge stage with 3 tiny kids performing anyway. And this suburb needs some culture.

Pink and Adele sure are popular.

Why do girls think their dance in front of the mirror in the bathroom is going to translate well to the stage? Ok. Am I being a jackhole for even saying this inside my head?

What was that Daniel Radcliff said in his “You CAN do anything” SNL skit?  “I tried, and therefore, no one should criticize me.”

Ok. You are probably just being an asshole.

But I am hungry. I did not have dinner yet!

It is very important to know how to do a cartwheel.

When is this going to end?

People probably think my kids are in every act the way I am applauding. Every act gets me closer to the end of this.

Mother. 1.5 hour. This is only the first act?

When you have an awesome set of pipes, you are set for talent shows for life.

 

What a stupid question in the workbook: “Is Jesus a man or God?” Of course, he’s a man. He’s the Son of God I will give them that. I can rote memorize with the best of them.

Why does the religious textbook insist on Jesus being The Son of God AND God at the same time?

How did I miss this? I thought I’ve read the Bible the first thing for college… Oh… Old Testament. Dude was not even in it.

This is confusing. So all of a sudden I have to tell my son that Jesus IS, somehow, also God?

This does not even make sense. How is he the son and the father at the same time? Do people really believe in this?

How do I say this with a straight face? Am I rolling my eyes too obviously right now? [I guess this is something you just have to believe. You either believe it or you don’t. Leap of faith required]

I did not sign up for this. This feels like lying through my teeth. I refuse to say it.

I am such an idiot! Why did I not know until now?!

Good. The kid figured the “correct” answer out on his own from the textbook. We will just pay for his therapy in the future.

I am going to kill my husband.

[Later, I did express with strong emotions my inability to even verbalize the statement so could he please handle that from now on should this subject resurface again. And he laughed out loud. He just laughed. What’s up with that?! and I should probably explain: I am agnostic and did not grow up in a predominantly Christian country. My husband is one of those twice-a-year Catholics. We are bringing the kids up Catholic. Or as I believe, we are waiting for them to be confirmed to make my mother-in-law happy. I feel like I have signed some important agreement without having read the fine prints first. I feel like an idiot…]

 

[Listening to Wait Wait Don’t Tell Me] That is Gary Oldman? Gary Oldman is British?

Oh my god oh my god oh my god.

Cars should come equipped with the ability for me to tweet and update my Facebook status and to write on my blog just by me thinking out loud.

I would be the most prolific blogger ever.

Gary Oldman is such a great character actor. I have never heard him speak as himself!

This is absolutely scary and amazing and awesome.

He scares the bejeezus out of me in The Professional.

Nobody ever cracks their neck in such a scary way. The scariest neck-cracking ever.

 

Interesting. The percussion section has quite a few tall blonde young male persons. Look in the opposite direction!!!

Yeah. And they are complaining about too many Asian kids in this neighborhood. Look who are the nerds now.

Ha ha.

[Just so we are clear on this: My son is in the band]

[Also, I love nerds and geeks and dorks and whatever labels you throw on cerebrals]

Look. There is this kid that looks like a younger Jesse Eisenberg!

And wow. He even has the same smugness about him [as Eisenberg in The Social Network]

I think I have a crush on Jesse Eisenberg.

And now whenever I think of Marc Zuckerberg, I think of Jesse Eisenberg’s face.

Does that mean I have a crush on Zuckerberg?

Shudder.

I am convinced that I will now think of that kid as Zuckerberg as played by Eisenberg. He can be a totally good person and I will still see him as a smug jerk.

Poor kid. Being judged by me.

Movies are so powerful.

 

[Watching my oldest lifting himself straight up in the air on p-bars at his gymnastics meet] Whoa.  That kid’s got some awesome biceps. When did this happen? Where did those come from?

He can probably snap my neck just like that. Ha ha. Awesome.

 

 

 

Spitting Blood

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I am sitting here trying to catch up on the million things people just piled on my desk with a pool of blood in my mouth.

I don’t know why but I keep on thinking of Brat Pitt from Fight Club.

I don’t remember whether he lost any tooth inside the Fight Club or not. I guess you really cannot talk about it. But I just lost a tooth. So I win.

I did have my oral surgery today. All I remember now is:

  1. I was worried that I would have to be like Liz Lemon from the Valentine’s Day episode and pretend I actually had a ride home. I did. My babysitter came through.
  2. The doctor put the needle not very gently in 3 different places before he was able to draw blood.
  3. The doctor not very gently used something with very hard bristles all over my gum which made me, mind you, I did not cry once during my root canal in March, cry quite a few times. “Are you sure I am supposed to be feeling this pain? Am I not supposed to be sleeping now as you kept on telling me?”
  4. The doctor kept on yelling, “Open your mouth. I cannot see anything!” and complaining, “You have a very small mouth.”
  5. I restrained myself from laughing out loud and saying, “Tell my husband about it.”
  6. I woke up from a dreamless nap which I thought was only 30 minutes, but 2 hours had already passed.
  7. I felt around my mouth with my tongue and my tooth was gone.
  8. The doctor failed to volunteer any information to me. I had to yell, “Can I ask you some questions?” in my groggy state from my chair for him to come into the room. “So what did you do today?” And he told me to take it easy, one thing at a time. I fucking want to know what he’s going to do with that big giant hole in my mouth. He told me to wait until I see him again next week and we can talk about it.
  9. I checked my phone and saw an IM from my boss asking for something that he has never asked me to do, knowing also that I was going under the knife today, actually, at that specific hour. I fired back with enough bitchiness probably never has been heard from me before.
  10. The tooth that was taken out was the same tooth that has undergone the root canal not too long ago. And the salt that was added to the wound? I have just paid for the crown for it. It’s like renovating your house right before they decide to demolish it.

What the fucking fuck?!

 

Ok. I need the Silverlining Man to the rescue…

  1. I now have an official diagnosis from a medical professional that I do indeed have a very small mouth. Here is a note from the doctor, honey.
  2. I cannot eat hard food for the next week. Here is the same note from the same doctor, honey. Eh, I mean, I will probably be able to lose my tummy fat (yes I know this is kind of contradictory to my previous Rah Rah post about Ruby the Anti-Barbie…)
  3. I will probably finally put my Vitamix to good use. Bacon smoothie anyone?
  4. The doctor did NOT say that alcohol is not allowed.
  5. I am still walking in Cloud 9 because of this episode from yesterday…

When I was waiting for a taxi to come by outside the office building yesterday, a truck made a U Turn and stopped in the middle of the street. The guy on the passenger side poked his head out of the window and yelled at me,

“You are really attractive. Wow. Really really attractive.”

Mind you, he did not use the word HOT. Or SEXY. Or GORGEOUS. Or BEAUTIFUL. And I was not showing any cleavage. In fact I was wearing a plain black t-shirt.

I thanked him for making my day. I believe I may have even curtsied when I thanked him. I am still thinking it was probably a bet, or a random act of kindness, or candid camera, or Punk’d.

I am just glad he saw me yesterday and not today.

 

Ok. Got to go and spit out the blood that’s almost overflowing inside my puffed cheeks.

TMI?

Definitely.

But you like it, right?

 

“Give Me Novacaine!”

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I have had problems with my teeth since young. Actually one of the dentists I saw in the U.S. flat out told me that it is largely hereditary, that I would have developed problems with my teeth sooner or later, that even if I were born and grew up here, the land of BEST DENTAL CARE IN THE WORLD, I would have had bad teeth. Long story short, I have had numerous root canals done back home when I was fairly young. I am pretty sure they were all painful since dentists back then seemed to not believe in anesthesia, and the patients assumed that pain was just part of the deal.

The only thing I recall now is that once the pain was so excruciating that my entire body tensed up, my hands clenched tightly into fists , and it took more than an hour for my hands to relax to uncurl themselves. When it happened, the dentist simply told my mother that I was too hyper-sensitive and she could seat me in one of the chairs in the waiting room until I could function normally again.

I remember feeling guilty about not being able to sustain the pain.

I only started remembering all these yesterday when I went through my first root canal here in the U.S.

I also recalled the first time I saw an American dentist for a, relatively, trivial tooth decay. When I winced because of a slight discomfort, she immediately stopped whatever she was doing, “Did it hurt? I am so sorry. Do you want a shot?”

I was startled by her genuine concern over a pain so minor that I laughed. I wanted to tell her how happy I was but I did not for fear that she’d think I had gone mad.

 

This time the pain started last Friday evening. It was not really pain per se, but more like a dull sore that made my skull chamber hum. All day and all night. I finally was able to see the dentist this Monday and was given the bad news that a root canal was necessary.

“Could I have the laughing gas?”

“Of course you could!”

Laughing gas + Novocain. I was set. No, I did not dream Britney Spears or even John Stamos. But, I did see colors, and patterns. Generally enjoying myself in such a legally drugged up state. All of a sudden, I saw bursting colors, and the straight lines in the patterns curving at the end and breaking into flowers with brilliant colors.

At first I could not pin point the sensation. Neither what nor where. The colors were ricocheting all over inside my head. Then gradually I felt it. It was emitting out of the spot where the doctor was sawing with an endo file. Gradually I realized that sensation that I was feeling? That sensation was PAIN.

I should say something, I thought.

I should at least make the noise, OUCH.

But I did not care. I could still see the colors bursting while the end of the straight lines curving upwards into a floral shape.

Maybe pain is normal. I thought. Maybe for a root canal, I am supposed to feel pain, I thought.

Bursting. Pain. Boom. Colors.

I could not make myself care.

 

Unfortunately I was not allowed to walk around hooked up to the laughing gas. As soon as the mask was removed, the pain became more and more acute. “Was I supposed to feel the pain?” I asked the dentist.

“Oh my goodness. Of course not!” she said apologetically, “Some people are hyper sensitive to these kinds of pain. You must be one of them. Why didn’t you tell me? I could have given you another shot. Do you want a shot now?”

I had missed the window of making this root canal a pain-free experience. Wouldn’t have made any difference then, I am guessing. The persistent pain seems to be what comes afterwards. For the rest of Monday and today, I live in constant awareness of the shape of my skull.

But no colors. No bursting flowers. Just blinding white behind my eyes when I squeeze them shut.