Raised by Wolves

Gaki: writing myself Real

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When I was your age, we did our OWN surgery, without anaesthesia. In the snow. Uphill, both ways.

So the dentist says, I just may live after all.

Actually, he never once hinted that my condition would be remotely fatal. Which is good, as if there were a chance that periodontitis were fatal, I'd like to have kept the $600 bones that I shelled out to him, right? No, it was really just the paperwork and the informational brochures and posters all around the office, some of which are probably meant to be reassuring, but really the message they convey is a lot closer to, "If during or after the cleaning process your gums blacken, your testicles shrink, your entire lower jaw atrophies and falls off, or your heart explodes, well, shit, these things happen bro. Good luck."

Maybe that's just what the world looks like, through my paranoia filters. It's been a long time since I've been to the dentist; probably two decades. Longer than some of my friends have been alive.

I now have an electric toothbrush. The thing frightens me a bit. Last time I was near something oblong and electrical, the next thing I heard was, "What the FUCK are you doing in my sock drawer!!??!" followed by a bright flash of pain. (The time before that, while peaceably reclining, it was, "Get up! Why are you falling behind the bed? DON'T LOOK, GET THE FUCK UP!" And then there's, "That's my bag, don't touch that, dammit!" I mean, sweet Zombie Jeebus, you all seriously need to be more careful where you put your shit, because I'm the one that gets injured over it! But I widely digress...)

It's not that I've been avoiding care or anything. It's just that, like so many people in my generation, I got nothing resembling insurance. A long history of temp/contract jobs, money under the table work, and roninesque wandering from coast to coast and back again has left me with little opportunity or time for such niceties. (Under the current administration's stated aims for healthcare, we all better take a first aid course).

Hell, with the right amount of ingenuity and determination (read: substantial level of crazy-making pain), you can actually do anything, including your own dental work. I used to have a recurring toothache in my upper left wisdom tooth, which would glow with an incandescent throbbing agony fierce enough to leave me punching myself in the face in the middle of freeway traffic, repeatedly and with force, anything to distract and diffuse the message that those yowling nerve-endings were sending.

I can remember, years ago, staring at the shadowed reflection of my own haunted visage in the darkened glass of a sleeping computer monitor, the otherwise unoccupied office silent but for the whirring of fans. Feeling the solid wood of a chopstick balanced across my lower teeth, angled upward so that its end solidly rested against that one crying dental entity, drawing my palm back and tensing the muscles of my upper arm in preparation to strike a blow that would deliver my from my small purgatory, at any cost. It was very quiet, that moment.

I find my tongue constantly going towards the remaining crater, the half of a tooth that just wasn't going to work. Food gets caught in it and requires careful brushing, but the nerves are long gone and it causes me no discomfort -- it's only a hollow memory of something that might have been. But it's about time for it to go. I have the same feeling about walking away from the job I currently hold. It's not getting any worse, but it's not going to get any better, and all that's really left anymore is a bombed-out hollow where something used to be growing. Though it occasionally captures something interesting, such things are only flotsam and soon washed away.

SafeGuard provides the cheap-ass dental insurance that I now use; if you need just something to get you over the cost of one or two procedures, click here to check them out.

And if you know of any projects in the game industry that need an AP or even just a tester, give me a holler, would you? I'm damn good at what I do, and interviewers tell me I have a great smile. Cheers.

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i like the more focused longer posts. keep it up, dammit.

sock drawers and health care. I love it.

" an incandescent throbbing agony" is a great phrase.

You're still roving through those icons juuuuust to get back at me for all the cute comments.

Yanno. First off. Let me make you squirm! (Revenge is Miiiiiine!)

You're such a kick ass writer. Don't care what you're writing about, it's always the most interesting thing in front of me. You have that whole, "I am will reeeeeaaaad" vibe. I think it's because you know how to handle your words. You make them simple, even if they're not. And you never never let them upstage you.

Second...I remember when you did that with your tooth!! It was right around when I got my teeth yanked. Oddly, for some reason, that chop-stick conversation is in the same place in my memory as the discussion on Jonny the Homicidal Maniac. Which is just...perfect.

Number C:
I have some MacKurn plot points to update you on. And I would still really love to see what you could do with her.

And lastly, I'm sorry I didn't catch on to the bit you were talking about the other night about your job. :( You hopped away shortly after so I didn't get the chance to play catch up. I'm sorry! Anyway, talk to you soon.

Dear Dr. Teeth who uses many squares,
My mechanical toothbrush has saved me several times when I desperately needed mechanical relief.


Apparently, the entire world is full of objects that have a magical secret history I may never fully understand. (Though I may occasionally spend some private time trying to visualize said history.)

Thank you, Girl-who-thinks!

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