Did someone get an ouchie?
I went to the periodontist today to get an implant. That’s when they replace a real tooth with a piece of metal in your jaw. In my case the tooth was a baby tooth I’d had all my life that never developed a permanent tooth underneath. The baby tooth hung on bravely for years but finally developed a cavity and started to chip away. So they “pulled” that one and put a metal sinker that will hold a new crown. I say “pull” with the quotation marks because it wasn’t like a yank but more like a… uh, not like a yank, let’s just leave it with that. To recall the noises would make me a little queasy. Let’s just say, thank God it was a baby tooth because a big, grown-up tooth would have been a real damn chore to get out.
I did bring headphones for the procedure, or more accurately, earbuds into which I pumped the Strokes Room On Fire. I was going to take a mix but I decided that I didn’t care enough about RoF to be upset if the procedure made me hate it in some Pavlovian way. The music helped a little bit, but it in no way masked the sounds. I would have had to have brought big airtight headphones and pumped the music at top volume. Instead, I found myself pausing the music every once in a while to hear what the doctor was saying to the nurse. I wanted to make sure I heard if he said, “Whoops.”
But there were a few moments when I was able to concentrate on a song and not whatever was happening in my mouth–which was always uncomfortable if not actually painful–and those moments were better spent with the Strokes than Phil Collins or Lionel Richie.
I’ve been spaced out all day since not because of any pain medication (I’ve only taken Advil so far) but because it hurts to eat and I’m hungry and weak. Frankly, I can’t believe I can type so well. (Though I mistyped every word in that last sentence.)
Anyway, I was looking at the “after” x-ray of the metal bolt thingy in my jaw and thinking “now I’m a cyborg.” That reminded me of something I’d read recently so I dug out this month’s copy of Reason which indeed included a bit on cyborgs in the “Artifact” section. What they said was:
We’ve been cyborgs for centuries, our bodies augmented by glasses and cars, guns and guitars, Google and the written word. Our sense of our own physical presence extends into these tools, as any driver can attest.
Hmm… that certainly makes the Fleshlight sound less pathetic. “No, I’m not a lonely wanker; that’s merely my cyborg vagina.”