a lesson in exaggeration

I rue the day that I agreed to having them removed. Looking back, I should have just choked it down, the pain that tears my skull to brittle fragments whenever one of them so called wisdom teeth asserts its existence amongst his already established family members. If I could turn back time, I surely would go back to that situation wherein Davidson proposed that dreadful appointment and surely as I am suffering from these threads that are wiggling like tapeworms trying to escape from the grinding of my molars, I would have told him to grab that drill and shove it down his piehole.

Maybe there is absolutely no need to freak out. Period. As the master negotiator with the business-phone-y voice adviced, I should just wait for them to call me back and succinctly say 'fuck it' whenever they mention that bill.

But how can I not freak out, when I'm stuck with a six hundred dollar bill which I am not responsible for, worried that it might go against my perfectly pure credit record simply due to that harpy's deceptive act? How can I not freak out when that sweet,caring assistant phoned this morning to superficially ask how I am feeling before turning into this bearer of ill fortune telling me that she'd call me back, hopefully to tell me that it was all a mistake on their part but made me wait like a lovestruck idiot instead over the telephone for her cheating sweetheart to ring? How can I not freak out when there's another set of lips within the back of my mouth, creating a special nook for the littlest naughty bits to hide and stomp on the poor gum till it would scream infection, when the irritable stitches are unravelling and me not knowing if they are supposed to unravel and when there are freaky parts of skin that I think the dentist should have cut cleanly for it to heal faster. Most of all, how can I not freak out when I have to call them tomorrow since they neglected to call me back because I need reassurance that everything will be alright else they better fix this mess for free.

I know it may not be a big deal to you and that there are countless bigger shits that explode around the globe but it's a big bloody deal to me while I am reading this Business Practices and Consumer Protection Act, instead of going to bed with a full stomach because my gums can't tolerate even the softest grain of rice, instead of getting my much needed sleep by now without waking up to literally bloody drool on my pillow. I am here trying to formulate my plan of attack, to plead my case ever so nicely and accurately slam reason up their wrinkly asses.

Maybe I'm just overreacting. Maybe it will all be sorted out tomorrow. Now, where are my damn painkillers?