Wednesday, November 23, 2005

I have been on fire twice this week. And it's only Tuesday. I have to wonder what the rest of the week has in store.

It all began on Sunday evening. It was quite crisp and I had a fire roaring in my wood burning stove. When the wood burned low I grabbed a new piece and slid it through the door, placing it on the glowing embers. And then I touched the steel plate that keeps the flame from rushing up the chimney and lighting the flue on fire. It really did not take long to realize that I had touched it. I knew it immediately. The pain was ... intense. I leaped the 15 feet to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold water. I also found a huge hunk of ice laying in the sink. Debbie had cleaned out the ice maker in our freezer. I stuck my hand against the ice and kept the water pouring on it. The pain eased. After several minutes I lifted my hand and looked at the wound. Part of my index finger was charbroiled. You know how when you drop a chicken breast on the old weber grill it quickly gets those black "cooked" marks on it? That's exactly what I had on my flesh. I was cooked. No, not all the way through. If you cut me open you would have found that I was probably to rare for your taste. But, none the less, I was partially grilled.

This morning I had an early dentist appointment. I found myself in his torture chair at 8 AM. It seems I had a small cavity in the back part of a front tooth and he was going to fix it for me. That is how I came to find myself tilted back so far that my head was below the level of my feet. My mouth was wide open and this big man had his hand buried in it up to his last knuckle. That is always a fun way to start off a morning. Then, through the music piped in to my Ipod covered ears, I heard him rev up his drill. What an instrument of mid-evil torture these things are. Total brutality! But four shots had gotten me numb enough that I really didn't care much. Within seconds his drill was doing its work on my tooth. I was listening to a nice rotation of various worship music that I had formed into a play list. After about a minute I realized that this drilling was taking quite a long time. I opened my eyes (Teachable moment: never open your eyes when a dentist is drilling on a tooth.) My mouth was smoking. Yes, smoking. The dentist did not seem concerned. The dental assistant didn't seem concerned. I, however, was concerned. I was numb from the tip of my nose to somewhere near my navel but I was pretty sure that smoking teeth was not a good thing. Well, he stopped drilling and his assistant squirted water into my mouth. The smoking stopped. I thought I heard a siren in the background. It might have just been the smoke detector bolted to the ceiling. I am not sure. So anyway, he finished his work, charged me a fifty dollar co-pay, and sent me on my way. I think I drooled down my chin for about an hour. I cannot find any signs of fire damage in my mouth. I don't have any symptoms of smoke inhalation. I don't know what to make of it all.

So that is how my week is going. I suppose things could be much worse. Of course, there is still 5 days to go. I am going to try to stay flame-free. Why push my luck?


Paul said...

I recall a particular Bill Cosby routine where he's in the dentist chair and yells out "S-M-M-OKE!"