Ugh

Is it possible that local anesthetic causes migranes? Ever since I had my tooth worked on this morning my head has been splitting. I tried convincing myself that it was caffeine deprivation, but two cups of coffee later, it's just as sharp and achy. Radiating out from the right side of my jaw and flaring out across the entire side of my head. It really sucks.

But worse is the realization that I've got about two grand worth of mouth work that needs to be done, and that's WITH insurance. Cripes! Dentures sound pretty good right now.

The dentist tells me that I should be a bone donor, jokingly, because I have so much jawbone that he can't even get a needle into the right place to deliver the anesthetic. So essentially, I got numbed in all the wrong places, and sat through the drilling and filling still feeling every bit of it.

And he wonders why I haven't come to visit in three years!

Seriously, though, he's a good dentist. I like him a lot, and he does good work. He can't help it if I have a retarded bone structure.


In more somber news, I found out today that my rear neighbor/ex-boss/friend passed away December 27th. Goes to show how observant I am. I guess I just figured that our routines didn't mesh anymore when I stopped seeing his car in the driveway, etc. I've written about him before, I think. Sweetest guy you could ever know. Would go out of his way to help you, if he could. He had an infectious girly little laugh and beautiful white teeth. He wore way too much jewelry, drove his rainbow stickered car proudly, and made no qualms about his sexual preference. Yet, no matter how much of a flamer he could be, he could also be incredibly tame when it was required.

I knew he was dying. Knew it years ago, and although he never said it, and no one ever told us, we knew it was AIDS. He fought it for as long as he could, I suppose. The body can only handle so much.

The last time we talked, he was so thin that the shadows caught in the hollows of his cheeks. I hugged him, he felt awkward in my arms, as if human touch was something he'd forgotten. I can't imagine what it's like to be dying from a disease that makes everyone afraid of you. As if AIDS could simply jump from his skin and cause an epidemic. I told him that I wasn't afraid of him, that if he needed anything, I was right across the canal, just holler. He invited us to come over and barbecue, have a beer. It was just formality. We knew then that he didn't have long. That was almost a year ago.

But still, I can't help but feel guilty for the fact that, although I could probably throw a rock through his bedroom window from where I sit right now, I never took the time to stop by and just say hi, or maybe drop dinner off, or offer to pick up groceries. And now he's gone. More than a month in the grave, and I'm just now realizing that I'm too late.