Turn your Head and PANIC!

Going to the doctor is always terrible. There is always a risk involved, no matter how minor your reason is for visiting.

It's kind of like swimming in the ocean. Sure it isn't LIKELY that you will be eaten by a Giant Murder Fish (Pescisdeathus holyshiticus - the scientific name) but it is definitely possible. Had you not swum in the ocean, your chances of being eaten by said fish would be diminished.

"It is in my gaping maw that worlds end and dreams die!" - Death Fish

It is the same damn thing EXACTLY as going to the doctor.

"It is in my gaping maw that worlds end and dreams die! Also, you have high cholesterol!" - Doctor

Ok, maybe not the exact same thing, but there are definite similarities! Blissful ignorance is always better than being poked in the arm with a needle or ingested by a doctor/ fish. 

At worst you discover you have minutes to live; at best (and it is the worst best ever) if you're a guy, the doctor... well, for lack of a better phrase... handles your jewels like they're a pair of Chinese worry balls (or, for the ladies, handles your... ovaries?... like... hmmm, I'll come back to that one)

The right one is a little swollen, and the left one has a dragon on it... look into that

As much as I hate going to the doctor, I also find myself unable to avoid it. I always need some inoculation or to get one of my extra toes removed. Usually I just bite the bullet, take the injection/ critique about my eating habits/ realization that I have to take off my pants and I am wearing the underwear equivalent of a low production-value B movie with plot problems.

What!? It is laundry day!

Luckily doctor visits are usually pretty uneventful, but every now and then... 

A few years ago it was deemed necessary for me to get my wisdom teeth out. Now, I had visited the doctor a few times for major reasons: I had a hernia fixed when I was six weeks old, I snored too hard one night and my uvula (the little thing that hangs down at the back of the throat) swelled up... normal stuff. 

Now, my wisdom teeth were presenting a problem. You know how teeth are supposed to come in straight up, like a skyscraper?

Yeah, mine were coming in sideways... like a skyscraper that was built, fell over, and then they said "fuck it", and it was rebuilt from its new supine position...

Ok, now knock it over and then keep building!

All of this translated to: "Dear sweet pancakes! Those teeth need to come out now!" It was unavoidable, I had to go to the doctor. I readied myself mentally, put on some nice boxers just in case I had to take of my pants (you never know with doctors!) and went in for my pre-surgery meeting. 

That is when shit really got scary. 

For legal reasons the doctor has to tell you before the surgery all of the ways you will die/become horribly, swearwordingly ruined during, and after, the surgery. 

"We might cut your nerve and you will never feel anything in your jaw again" 

"You may have an allergic reaction to the anesthesia and die" 
"You might get an infection and die" 
"Clowns might gang up on you in a back alley and beat you with their big shoes" 

They cover everything and you leave the meeting not just expecting to die but knowing that you will die on that table with a numb jaw and a clown beat down... or something.

Are you allergic to any medication?

Finally the day comes and you are lying down, a bunch of people are moving around doing stuff and you know that, pretty soon, four teeth are going to be forcefully sliced from your head and whisked away, never to be seen again. 

Horror stories start running through your mind. "Holy Fuck! What if they aren't really doctors and I wake up without teeth or kidneys!? Will it still be covered by my health insurance!?"
It was at this point that I started to panic a little. 

They put the mask on my face and told me calmly (too calmly!?!?!) to count backwards from ten. All I could think about was "dear sweet pancakes... please let me have feeling in my jaw when I wake up, and kidneys! I never appreciated my kidneys until now!" 

10... panic 

9...   Panic 
8...   PANIC 
7...   PANIC... and sleepy... so slee


It is hours later, your face is swollen, everything is blurry... and shit is about to get weird. When you wake up from surgery you're on painkillers. 

I was ON some fucking painkillers... and shit was indeed about to get weird. Tune in next time for the THRILLING conclusion!

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