Like Pulling Teeth: Grotesque Narration within

Recent experience has taught me that when you least expect or need it, trouble will crop up in your life. 'Course, who needs trouble really? I mean, ever? With finals fast approaching and my social life practically on hold, I find myself shuffling around my room in a tizzy, hoping to uncover some secret door in the world of Asian American Women Writers, which will afford me an A on my next essay. In the midst of this frantic shuffling, a sudden shooting pain plunges through my leg and I'm suddenly on the bed. This is probably a much more dramatic reenactment than what really happened. I've been stabbed! Ok, in the foot. By a pin, or possibly some small clothing t-hang tag that didn't make it to the garbage. An inspection of the rug uncovers 7/8ths of a sewing needle, the rest of which may or may not be embedded in my foot. Ideally, I would very much like to find the rest of the needle and therefore spend the next 20 minutes frantically waving a strong magnet over the carpet. Nothing.

This brings us to now, a full 72+ hours following the incident. I've been to the college health services where they proclaimed they could do nothing, so gave me a tetanus shot and herded me out the door. I cannot walk on my left foot, and the shot is still affecting my left arm. Now, I know I'm a baby about pain. I have NO pain threshold, and all this must be compared with the pain my mother potentially felt during childbirth ("Whatever you're feeling, it can't be as bad as passing a bowling ball through your legs on the hottest day of the year, and the anesthesiologist hasn't made his rounds yet"), because otherwise, I would be a very poor Jewish daughter.

This brings up fond and frightful memories of how I thought I might die from my wisdom teeth coming in. I thought for sure they'd be so big, I wouldn't be able to close my mouth to chew and wouldn't be able to get any nutrients and then die from starvation. What can I say, I'm a worrier. Little bastards were more trouble than they were worth. I assume humans have wisdom teeth because in the dark, dim stone age, if you managed to make it to 20, you probably didn't have any teeth left anyway. So having any new ones come in was probably like a miracle. Anyway, I didn't really appreciate my wisdom teeth coming in.



Really, I don't think anyone does. The nice thing about being human is that, (seemingly) unless pain involves childbirth, we forget all about it. It's a distant memory until we experience it again. And then we have to compare. Is the pain as bad as being bloated while living above a chinese restaurant and having morning sickness during the hottest summer in rememberance (another gem from Mom)? Or is it a fleeting worry, a twinge we'll likely forget as soon as it's gone? Like hiccups: something annoying but momentary.