I guess that's a bit of a weird thing to do when you're wailing your head off, but writing helps me eventually calm down so even though it seems ridiculous, I'll keep going.
I finally bit the bullet and called Dr. Suzuki (all those times I said I called? I lied. Sorry.) and told him about my mouth bleeding - because it decided to happen again this morning - and they told me to come in for a s--------, which I don't remember the actual word for but it sounded something like sepulcher, so that's what I'll use. I rather feel like being placed in one at the moment, anyway. I ask if I need someone to drive me, and they say no, so I assume it's some minor little thing, like placing a wad of packing tacky-clay on the roof of my mouth again.
I go in, tra-la-la, and after they get the dentist bib on me, the first thing Dr. Suzuki whips out is a giant syringe. I freak out, because no one said nothing about getting shot, and not only do I get shot but it's in the roof of my mouth and MOTHERFUCKER IT HURTS. (I am deathly afraid of needles, by the way. Freakin' terrified. When I was a kid, it took four nurses plus my father to hold me down for a shot. THAT IS WHEN I WAS SICK, TOO.) Since they're messing around in my mouth I can't react at all and then they start sewing something up and I can't feel that, probably because of whatever they shot into me, but I can see blood getting on his gloves and it's scaryscaryscary. After the doctor finished whatever he was doing, he did put that tacky-clay on the roof of my mouth, but it's so far back that part of it is going down my throat, so every time I swallow it feels like someone's sticking a finger down there. Those of you who have known me a while know I have a terrible gag reflex, and this is torture for me. Every time I swallow tears start welling up and I try cringe away from my throat, and that is not, of course, possible so I'm just twitching my throat muscles in the oddest way possible. It's driving me absolutely insane, and it's gotta be in there a week. The whole process takes about ten minutes, but DAMN THAT WAS A SCARY TEN MINUTES.
I manage to hold myself together until I get back to my car, and then I start bawling. Since I can't just sit in the dentist's parking lot all day, I start driving home, and I APOLOGIZE NOW TO ANYONE ELSE WHO WAS ON THE ROAD WITH ME. I was crying and you know what, it's not easy to drive when you're doing that. IT IS A STUPID IDEA AND I REALIZE THAT, but I just wanted to get home so I could curl up and cry without restraint. Which I did and am doing, except for a quick phone call to my little brother to please stop by Viking Bookstore and let them know that I am far too hysterical to go to work today, and at this rate won't be able to help out at all during summer session, but pretty please don't fire me because I want to come back during the fall.
So now I'm in this cycle of write, write, calm down, stop crying, write, swallow, burst into hysterical tears once more.