Toothache.

Published Meath Chronicle 21st October 2014.

He switched on the bedside lamp, the clock beamed 5.22am. It was now seven minutes since the man had become acquainted with his pain, yet he still didn´t know it. His thoughts flustered over damp floorboards, the warm air forcing him outside. A streetlamp puddled rainy light upon the stairs, the bannister led down, down until he landed in the kitchen. With the first mouthful of whisky the discomfort eased and suddenly he became aware of its absence.

As the storm abated he now felt alive and tingling like an electric fence. In the toaster´s reflection he drew back his lips to see canines project from a cloud of tartar, rattling each molar without joy, the gum looked red but that could be the light and anyway his tongue had already failed to find any cavities. He finished the glass and took off again.

At the door, the queasiness returned. Square miles of waves began to roll and pitch their heaped suffering upon his lower jaw; the pain swept him back to the table. Gently cradling his head, he popped pill after bitter pill, drowning each one in alcohol. He waited for the miraculous transition but it never came. Chaos and treachery reigned. The gates of misery opened and so started a slow, monotonous descent to hell; the man dug his nails in. Then he made himself small to resist the pain however it multiplied quickly, extending its territory until throbbing radiated from above the temple all the way down his neck.

With his head flat on the table between two bags of frozen peas, he tried to stop the advance. Contorted and gasping, he struggled again for clarity. At 6.38am, the analgesic Cavalry arrived. He welcomed them, whooping and chuckling as the pain receded but he could soon tell by their poor equipment and lack of numbers that the relief wouldn´t last long; the man grabbed the phone and dialled her number.

He heard himself imploring repeatedly “Hello? Hello? Hello?” even before she´d answered. “What do YOU want” she finally responded recognising his voice “Do you know what time it is?” “You´ve got to help me, I´m in agony…please…” She cut him off, “We´ve been through this a million times”. “But, you don´t understand, my tooth is killing me, I can´t stand it any…” Before he could finish the sentence she´d hung up. When he rang back he got a high-pitched melancholic drone that penetrated his ear, down his jaw and the ache stirred again.

Back in the bedroom, it grew worse. The dentist would be open in two hours but the man knew how he´d react from painful experience, “Don´t be a coward, man, it´s only an abscess. If you can stand a small injection we´ll take it out for God´s sake”. He could see it all clearly now, he had entered a new state, the agony had revealed his reality – he was weak and completely alone.

After that, the pills didn´t taste so bitter.

Dr Don Mac Auley.

Fear of the dentist.

Published Meath Chronicle 19th February 2013.

An invisible cap tightened its grip around her head as the first rays climbed the curtains and painted the walls. She was blind with sleep. The whole night twisting and turning, she huffed and puffed then cursed the day ahead.  Handfuls of water failed to restore her distorted image in the mirror and squinting against the naked light she plastered those wrinkles she could no longer ignore.

Downstairs, the cats eyed her with concern. She was unable to speak; they knew it and kept their distance. Fighting with her belt, she stamped in frustration sending them scurrying for the safety of the sofa´s shadows. And there they stayed, secretly conceding that today they weren´t coming out until she was gone. The woman stormed down the coffee, burning her throat but when the caffeine kicked in, she felt a little better. However, she couldn´t relax as the dread came again in waves.

Five minutes of frantic bag searching later, she was in the hallway. Outside the air rippled with cold. The spring sunshine distracted her from where she was going and she sparked up a cigarette.  Climbing the hill to town, she puffed deeply. Her heels echoed ahead drawing admiring looks from workmen busying in the opposite direction. Despite the attention, her ego dwindled as the destination loomed. Maybe they´d discover her vice, she agonised and flung the lit butt to the ground, breathing in and out furiously to get rid of the tobacco smell.

When the woman arrived, she was gasping and doubled over. She caught her hunched silhouette in the reflection of the door and set about straightening her clothing.  She thought, “I don´t have to go in, I can leave now and cancel by phone”. But her finger resisted, pressed the buzzer and when the video intercom crackled into life it was clear there was no going back.

Like the condemned to a gallows, she climbed the stairs. The receptionists had seen it all before and greeted her with a smile and much encouragement. While their smiles seemed genuine the disinfectant smell tweaked her bladder, she fled for the toilet. Safely inside, she bolted the door and rallied the troops. “This is stupid, it´s not as if you haven´t done it before, come on now!” Pulling herself together, she put on a brave face in the mirror and washed her hands,  “Stop fretting, everything´s going to be fine!”

Outside her name rang up and down the corridor. She took a deep breath and walked directly to the room at the end, her head swimming with possibilities. It was too late for further hesitation; she went in and sat down. There was a knock at the door, a man entered and she recognised the same brave face. He was her first patient of the day.