What's Left Of Me

I’ve had been waiting for this moment for weeks. It dominated my work life, overtook my social life and occasionally invaded my dreams. I couldn’t stand it any longer. I just wanted to get it over with so I could move on with my life.

So last Thursday morning, exactly 8.30am, I stood by that squeaky, germ-free counter, worn my bravest front and declared to the world:

“I have an appointment, I need a surgery.”

The air was so thick I felt I could cut it with a knife. No, I wasn’t afraid or anything like that, I was just sad - sad to think I was about to lose another body part, this young in my age. I felt really old.

After a few moment of waiting and agonizing (which translates to ‘few hours’ in public hospital time) they finally called up my number. Solemnly they ushered me to the (gasp!) so-called Operation Room No. 42 and cruelly made me wait some more. The temperature plummeted to sub-zero at once. Suddenly everything looked grim.

And as I sat on that chilly operation chair, trying to imagine rainbows, unicorns and all those happy stuff and such I prayed, ‘O God, if this is my another very bad, weird nightmare of mine, please, please WAKE ME UP NOW'.

My feeble pray was immediately dashed. A young, fresh-looking dentist emerged from another room. He was grinning from ear to ear, apparently sensing unmistakably tension in the air. So he tried to make small talks. He started asking questions, inappropriate questions like ‘Why are you still single?’ What’s your favorite movie?’ Who’s your favorite Powerpuff Girl? and such and all those questions you wouldn’t think remotely related to misbehaving molars or rotten denture.

“Is there anything else I need to know about before we proceed?”

I thought hard for the answer.

“Yes, I hate blood; I can’t stand people poking into my month; I don’t like the sound of drilling; I am not crazy about needles either; and bright lights bother me; and Oh is there a way we can do this without me be in the same room with you?”

He chuckled. He thought that was pretty amusing.

“We’ll see about that, now why don’t you be a dear and get your denture X-ray-ed first”

(It turned out, it was a pretty too much to ask of him. It took me 45 excruciating minutes to get the job done, and trust me it wasn’t really a walk in the park for those medical assistants either. I seriously had problem with people putting metal things in my mouth without me throwing up my entire morning snacks)

Now the poor guy convinced, I do have a problem.

“En. Mustaffa, it’s obvious you are not ready for this. I think you have an overly sensitive mouth (you think?). Now why don’t we fix another appointment in a couple of weeks so that we can arrange an anesthetizing procedure for you? I promised this time it will be painless and more tolerable for you, you wouldn’t even awake to notice that".

I am not good with dealing with pain. I usually ran from it. But it looks like this time I’ll just sleep through it.

Sigh, this is just great, I am gonna lose my tooth and now they are going to sedate me like I am some kind of a wild animal, could there be any more dignity left of me?