About a year ago I bit into a pumpernickel bagel and there must have been a small rock in it. Don’t ask me how. Anyway, the molar I bit down with (I’ve since learned it’s called #31) was killing me so I went to my trusty dentist and told him I must have busted it. He x-rayed it and poked and prodded it (Oh joy!) And declared it okay. Slowly it seemed to get better and I took a watch and wait approach. Two weeks ago, I was chewing on oatmeal. Oatmeal! There’s nothing more innocuous than oatmeal. Right?
Good old #31 made a cracking noise and provided me with a whole new definition of pain. So, I knew I had a bunch of things that had to get done this week and next week so I decided that if I didn’t chew food on my right side, I could make it through and then go see the Doc. Well two days ago that strategy failed catastrophically. The tooth was throbbing and aching really awfully. So yesterday I went to the dentist hoping he’d fix it before Saturday when I was starting a trip. Instead, he punted to an outside endodontic practice. Well, I wasn’t going to get an appointment yesterday. It’ll be next Thursday! In desperation I told him I needed something for the infection and pain and he gave me the generic amoxicillin prescription and a friendly pat on the shoulder.
Well, the amoxicillin has been in my system for a little over a day and it has brought the pain down from blinding stabbing pain to grinding ache. But for some reason I’m incredibly tired and kind of feverish. So, here’s the thing. I have a super long travelling day tomorrow and a social occasion. If I get home Saturday night, I’ll have Sunday to rest. If I don’t then I’ll go from that directly to a two-day event at work with each day running about fifteen hours. Then Wednesday I have to drive a friend to a doctor’s appointment about an hour away. And then Thursday I get to go to the endodontist to be vivisected and dumped bleeding and groaning on the sidewalk before driving home.
This is a warning that output and quality on the site for the next six days will be very questionable. If I start sounding loopier than usual it’s the gangrene talking and not me. Well, anyway I’ll do my best. The quotes and photos are already in queue and I will endeavor to get the stuff on the site but there may be some late posts. Mea culpa, mea culpa.
Camera Girl tells me I’ve been like a pathetic loser and a baby who needs pity; pieta (although in the dialect of her family’s Italian it’s pronounced as if it’s spelled “peacod.” Well, she’s probably right. I would give a thousand dollars to stay home for the next week. But promises were made and responsibilities are non-negotiable. So, raise the curtain on my Greek Tragedy, “Photog Agonistes.” Count no man fortunate until he is safely dead.
End of whine.


