Common Household Remedies Request
OK, thanks to all of you, I'm going off to have that vexsome tooth extracted.* I realize that in the great scheme of things, worry about getting a tooth pulled is definitely one of those #FirstWorldProblems -- heck, real men pull their own teeth! -- and nothing like surgery, at least since the days of barber surgeons, let alone like childbirth. Still, I've so far successfully avoided almost all voluntary contact with the health care system, and my childhood experience with slow-speed dentistry was no picnic, and then there were the last thieving corporate weasels I went to, who were running some sort of insurance racket. So I confess to having so far successfully suppressed my fear!
Any thoughts on the aftermath? Soft foods, pills? I should really make a Department of Getting Old Isn't For Wimps! Because it isn't!
NOTE * Just one. If they do this one well, they can do the others, this trip, or another one.
UPDATE Well, the extraction was painless, and I came home with neat little plastic bags (the Thais are big on packaging) of neoprofen (painkiller), amoxycillin (anti-biotic), and (more gauze). Hopefully, I'm biting down on the gauze successfully. Anyhow, assuming I'd be not working tonight and knowing I'm taking a bus to the Western Shore tomorrow, I went to buy some reading matter, and also some yoghurt, because I should only eat soft stuff tonight. This photograph shows why I find some aspects of the culture here endearing:
At the Kinokuniya Bookstore, they asked me "Plastic?" and I thought they meant "Paper or plastic?" and I wanted a plastic bag for garbage, so I said "Plastic." So they made book jackets out of plastic sheets, by hand -- for paperbacks! (Storm of Swords they had to cut the sheet with scissors, because it's such a big book!) The plastic is clear, but if you look at the spine of The Truth, at left, you'll see. Packaging!
So then I went to a supermarket in a huge new Japanese mall near my BTS stop to buy yoghurt. Of course, I also needed a spoon, since I don't have any eating utensils in my room; I looked everywhere, but the only spoon I could find was a wooden salad spoon that cost as much as a full meal. So I gave up. But when I paid and the checkout person gave me my change and bagged up my yoghurt, she said something like "sa-poon?" Which -- drugged? -- I didn't flash on 'til I was several steps away, when I realized she had to have meant "spoon," so I backtracked, and sure enough, there were spoons by the cash register (along with straws). Thai daily life is marked by many such small acts of "extra mile" thoughtfulness, I find. Like I say, it's endearing. Could be my status, I suppose.