A Letter to My Toothache

Photo by Mikael Kristenson on Unsplash

Dear #18,

Why are you unhappy?

Have I not faithfully brushed and flossed?

The dentist says there’s nothing wrong with you. After taking your portrait from every angle, she blames the trouble on your upstairs neighbor, #15. I concede the possibility. When you’re yowling like a cat in heat, it’s difficult to pinpoint the exact location of the commotion.

Why are you unhappy? Are you screaming for attention? From whom? Dr. Dentist isn’t good enough for you? I suppose your little ego is stoked that she's invited us to visit Dr. Endodontist. Oh, you must feel important now—invited to the inner sanctum of someone so hoity-toity we have to wait two weeks to get in.

I hope you appreciate Dr Endo’s scheduler expressing her concern for you, only you. Asking how you feel about cold food, hot food, pressure. And I don't know the answers. Possibly, you can make the case that I should have noticed all your eccentricities before you felt the need to screech at me for hours on end.

I have to admit you’ve given an uptick to my social life. Phone calls with Dr. Endo’s receptionist to find out if I’ve moved up on the waiting list. Always ending with the promise she’ll call me right away if things change. Then "try to have a good day." Right. I'd have a good day without your incessant shriek. But I say thank you, as if she’s actually done anything for me.

And it's lovely getting to know the sweet young woman at the new medical marijuana dispensary. It’s nice to know they have a doctor who will prescribe something for us. No forms to fill out. No insurance hassles. Just $25.00. Thank god. Anything. I’ll pay anything. But sorry, not today, they say. Dr. Cannabis is all booked up.

And you won't let me open my mouth wide enough to let loose a decent stream of expletives.

At least I'm getting reacquainted with Dr. Acupuncture. I love her. She doesn’t care what your problem is; she simply takes attendance. “Oh, #18 is here today. Hmm.” Tell me, were you as surprised as I when she demonstrated that pressure point on my hand? Her thumb digging into my flesh sends an electric shock so loud, it drowns out your wailing. But I do relish lying on the table with her jabbing needles into my jaw. Thank you for that.

Just curious. Did you feel the need to punish me afterward? It’s not my fault she didn’t ask about your personal history and whether you disliked ice cream. So, just curious, why the hell did you suddenly spread your joy from my eyeballs all the way down to my toes? How did you manage to make my toes cry?

But you overreached, didn’t you? I haven’t heard a peep from you since. Seems Dr. Acupuncture put you to sleep for now. Which means I might catch a little nap, too.

Only three more days until Dr. Endo.

Yours truly,

Ms. Dawn

Find out how you will change, if you revisit long-held assumptions about your past.

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