Entertaining and encouraging through the written and spoken word.
Wake to hear my wife’s voice calling;
John, can you hear me? Quit your stalling;
It took so long to wake you up;
We’re glad to see you sober up.
Smile for camera? Try not to pout;
Herman Munster with the gout.
Pictures for a horror show;
Before and after, don’t you know?
Glazy eyes and stoned out grin.
How come I can’t feel my chin?
Now I rise me up to wake;
One more antibiotic to take.
Jump into the family car;
Really won’t have to drive too far.
See the sunrise, enjoy the view;
Nothing to swallow, nothing to chew.
Dress in these, put those right there;
You can keep your underwear.
A few light squeezes, that’s a cinch;
You might just feel a little pinch.
A little saline, from this bag;
Will keep you hydrated; Here wear this tag.
Wife can sit in waiting room;
“Love you lots; I’ll see you soon.”
Wheel you into this chilly room;
Lay down here; stretch your arms;
Release your life and all its charms;
Inject a potion in your I.V.;
You’ll be asleep before…
Father, into thy hands I commit my spirit.
No vitamins or supplements after this date. No ibuprofen or acetaminophen this many days before. No food after midnight the night before. Have these prescriptions filled. Use the oral rinse the day before and the morning of. Swallow these antibiotics. Oh, and have your will updated, tell Moms and Dads you love them, and give hugs to all your family members.
I think highly of my dental team, but it’s hard to account for the emotional energy that dental work depletes. Even when there’s no pain, even when there’s no physical discomfort, the process is so intimate, so invasive, it’s sometimes hard not to want a nap (or a good cry) afterwards. This is probably especially true for introverts. Transitioning from drill-n-fill to regular activities takes more than just waiting for any anesthetic to wear off.
In other words, it’s possible to be a drooling fool in more than just the physical sense.
I can’t tell you how many men, after hearing about the bone re-arranging surgery I needed, offered to take care of all that bone breaking for me. One man advised me to go to the nearest tavern and start insulting people’s mothers.
Yup, that would take care of it.
Sucking on my crown of thorns to rearrange my skull.
No more nuts or Kandy Korns – only food that’s dull.
Railroad ties that go nowhere, but circle in my head;
Lead me to a palette split: Something that I dread.
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