Toothache

I’m leaving this note so there’s a record of my life. I’m just a normal guy with a normal job, a normal life where I did everything I was supposed to do. I finished university, then went looking for work, but I couldn’t find anyone willing to pay me a decent salary, so I’ve had to fight my way up from the bottom, working 10 or 11 hours a day.

Fortunately, I’ve always been the kind of guy who sees the bright side of things. I don’t get hung up on stuff; everything’s a lesson, you either win or you learn. Working in customer service isn’t so bad if you know where to look and if you know English. This job pays my rent, food, and even enough to buy Steam games, games I don’t even touch because I get home too tired. I chose this job because everyone always says I’m good at listening and that my positivity is contagious. “Establishing rapport,” as the fancy people call it, very useful for making customers feel comfortable. Too bad it doesn’t always work. Some people show up in a terrible mood, even threaten to beat me up. Honestly, some of the things they’ve said have made my blood boil, but I hold it in. Poor souls, they’re probably just having a bad day or something.

The job doesn’t give me health insurance, but that wasn’t a problem, or so I thought, because I’m not the type who gets sick often. But a couple of weeks ago, I started feeling some sensitivity in a molar, and it’s gotten worse with time. Eating or drinking on that side sends a shiver of pain straight through me. No big deal, I thought. I can just chew on the other side.

I’m going to have to part with my savings to see the dentist, but in the meantime I’ve got to keep smiling and stay in good spirits because the job demands it.

Recently, I broke up with my girlfriend. I noticed she was getting a little too playful with a coworker, and even went out with him on nights she told me she was “still working.” The breakup was pure drama. She blamed me for everything, and our mutual friends branded me paranoid, toxic, and all that. In the end, I get it, they just wanted to support the one they thought was more vulnerable. They were only trying to help. As for my girlfriend, she was never the type to admit her mistakes. When cornered, she lashed out and said things that, even though they were hurtful, I’m sure she didn’t mean in that way. Oh well. I don’t hold a grudge. You live, you learn. I just hope things go well for her and that she doesn’t do to her new boyfriend what she did to me. Besides, I didn’t handle things perfectly either. There’s been too many rude people at work, and this damn toothache has me stressed out.

I went to the dentist last week and he said my molar was badly decayed on the inside. He drilled the hell out of it, filled it, and charged me a fortune. I still felt a faint sensitivity, but I figured it would disappear once I got used to it. At least it was fixed.

But it wasn’t. A few days later, out of nowhere, the filling cracked. I went back to the dentist, he filled it again, and in a couple of days it cracked again. Same thing happened at least five damn times. Now the dentist has warned me: if it happens again, he’s going to have to pull the tooth, and that’s going to cost me big.

I wonder if it wouldn’t have been better for them to just pull out the tooth right from the start instead of making me waste so much money and time going back and forth. Well, I guess in the end it’s all business, the dentist has to make a living. Who am I to judge?

Another one who gave me hell was my boss, all because supposedly I didn’t ask for permission to miss work the day I went to the dentist. He called me into his office and scolded me for an hour after work, even complained about things that weren’t my responsibility. How is it my fault he doesn’t know how to organize himself and forgets that I did in fact ask for permission in person? I guess his job must have him all mixed up. And then, with the situation being tense at home, I suppose I’d be acting the same way too. All this makes me realize that pain makes people aggressive, both physical and mental pain. If I hadn’t been properly sedated with paracetamol that day, I think I might have actually taken a swing at my boss. This damn tooth hasn’t stopped bothering me. I don’t even smile at customers anymore, I don’t have the energy for it. The good thing is that tomorrow is finally the day of the root canal. Goodbye pain, goodbye draining all my savings. Tomorrow it’ll all be over.

Well, it wasn’t. They pulled the tooth and with it, the last of my savings. But I still felt a slight sensitivity that stressed me out immediately, the same as always, even though the tooth was gone and the corresponding nerve was supposedly dead. The dentist told me I had nothing, because there was nothing left. But I can clearly feel pain. The truth is, I left on bad terms with the dentist. We argued a bit and I walked out angry, swearing never to return. Oh well, there are plenty of dentists in the world. What there isn’t plenty of is damn money. I have to endure long shifts, rude people, a stupid boss, and this damned hellish toothache that won’t leave me in peace.

I get home and from the physical and mental exhaustion I can’t even shower or eat. I look in the mirror and don’t recognize the person staring back. I was supposed to be strong, how did I end up like this? What does this mean? What lesson am I supposed to learn from all this? Where is the end of this trial? Why does my spirit have to give out before this bad streak does?

The pills don’t work anymore, not even the strong ones. I already went to the doctor; they said there’s nothing wrong, though they could order tests to be sure, but there’s no money for that. I have a job, a degree, a roof over my head, what more could I want? I want this damned pain to leave me alone. I want everyone to leave me alone. I want to stop going to work. I can’t take this damned pain anymore, it’s driving me crazy. Enough, enough, damn it.

What do I need for this to end? My tooth is gone, is the problem deeper inside? I dig at my gums with the tip of a knife trying to tear them away. The pain gets worse. Enough, please, I can’t stand it anymore. I hope that once I’m dead, the damned pain will leave me in peace. Although, judging by the history of my misery, I wouldn’t be surprised if even as a ghost this damned toothache kept tormenting me.