What an absolute miracle to feel the vibration like road construction in my jaw, to hear the fast whine of the drill, to, yes, nearly swallow my octopus-like tongue… but to not experience a single electric jolt into my teeth. To not become my animal-shaped fear, hit with a cattle prod, awake and spitting, snarling, in utter panic.
I’m still numb, three hours later. Even my ear is a strange lump on the side of my head. But for the second time in a week, I have had cavities cleaned out and patched up without being body-snatched by the fear of my fragile mortality and imminent death, without the grief of seven generations coursing through my nervous system, without needing to sedate myself with sugar for hours afterward.
I think perhaps a lifetime of dental angst could have been prevented with just a little more of this most miraculous and magical Novocaine. I can be farm-girl-tough about a handful of things, but, god, I’m glad I don’t have to try to be stoic about my teeth!