One of my molars committed seppuku in the middle of the pandemic. Sometime after, the broken piece came loose completely and I was supposed to go to the dentist to get it fixed. There were no appointments available at the time, since most offices were closed, and the hospitals were unavailable for non-emergency patients.
The gaping hole eventually lead to an infection.
It was around midnight when the piercing volley started, followed by falling mortars in and around my jaw. I'm not entirely unaccustomed to toothaches, or pain in general, but this particular flavor was an odious blend. The disgraced clan had to be plucked, root and all, immediately.
I only had a short trip to the emergency room. I wasn't terribly thrilled at working on-site again, especially when some of it could have been done remotely, but this particular instance turned out to be fortunate. Or unfortunate as the case may be.
After the event, I decided to walk back all the way to my hotel. It's a curious sensation to walk in freezing temperatures with muted pain. Dull and crisp at the same time. It gave me immense clarity with every step and I believe the cold helped in more ways than numbing my cheeks. It's an interesting experience. I care not to repeat it, but I'm oddly glad the year started this way.
I was prescribed painkillers, but only took the first pill and chose to go with something less strong and off-the-shelf later. I dislike the feeling of having a blanket over my brain.
This involuntary break was an opportunity to catch up to my reading again. I fell behind by the end of December and I promised myself more time for thoughts. I'm coming back to my apartment by the end of February.