Resolution to the tooth saga

Alright, so I've been busy again recently. Too busy to even get on Skype with my dear old Mum, sorry Mum. In the next few days I'll endeavour to type up a few of my recent distractions.

Now, I'm sure you're all wondering what happened as a result of my visit to the dentist. Well, guess what Mum, I've had two root canals done now! Yes, after spending thousands on my teeth in the past year, they continue to be the single most annoying part of my body. I can definitely add this experience to the long list of insane experiences here that have surprised me by showing me my ability to handle difficult situations (particularly of a personal nature) are much better than I thought.

As luck would have it, one of the students at my eikaiwa (English conversation school) just happens to be a dentist. Best of all she is a lovely lady and was only too happy to help me out in my hour of need. Filling out the forms entirely in Japanese was as enjoyable as ever. I'm getting better at writing the characters for my street address here but I still have to look at a card in my wallet to get it completely correct. The receptionist spoke very little English so we had a great conversation in a mix of baby English and Japanese with a whole lot of body language and mime. Actually that's one benefit I can say for this experience, my Japanese vocab now includes such gems as "cavity", "tooth", "dentist" and "appointment" ("pain" and "painful" were already there, thankfully).

The layout of the dental surgery was very different to an Australian one. Consider a hairdressing salon minus the mirrors plus a whole lot of drills and lights and some low partitions between the chairs. The same dentist seems to be performing at least three operations at once, darting between the chairs. This was incredibly disconcerting at first but the army of incredibly polite and cute (as always) assistants were on hand to allay any fears and perform the menial tasks.

My X-ray revealed big troubles in little teeth. Not one but two would have to have root canals performed on them (which the Intertubes tell me is actually called a "pulpectomy"). The dentist delivered this news in a very friendly manner, devoid of any of the concern and condescension that I was so used to from my Australian dentists that I was completely nonplussed. Perhaps all that condescension was lost in translation. Perhaps root canals are pretty par for the course on people my age over here (entirely believable if you've seen the average Japanese person's not-so-pearly whites). Perhaps the Japanese believe politeness transcends the need for stern, frank medical advice. Whatever the case, the operation was under way before I had even had time to really consider the severity of my situation.

It wasn't until big, long metal wires were being thrust up through holes in my teeth right up into my brain (or so it felt) that I began to panic. It took the dentist three times the usual amount of anaesthetic to completely numb my two teeth (or so she said). In fact in the end she had to continue the operation while I still had a small amount of sensation in one of the teeth, an entirely terrifying experience. She only hit the nerve bang on once but it was enough to send tears streaming down the sides of my face.

Once the operation was over, the dentist hit me with the really really good news. I was going to have come back every Monday for the next four weeks in order to get the holes checked and cleaned. Hopefully on my fifth visit she can seal up the holes. So for those of you who maybe didn't put two and two together there, yes, that means I will be visiting the dentist on Christmas Day.

Anyway, continuing on, once out of the chair I proceeded to have one of my most lonely and scary moments in Japan. I used up almost all of the cash in my wallet paying for the day's festivities so I needed to find an ATM before I would be able to purchase the pain killers and analgesics I so desperately required. As luck would have it, my bank UFJ, did not seem to have an ATM anywhere within walking distance. The anaesthetic was beginning to wear off, it was a freezing 5 degrees outside, I was alone and in no state to be trying conversation in a foreign language. I tried my luck with the Post Office ATMs but the bastard machine kept telling me my card wasn't supported despite the UFJ logo being displayed above the keypad. I tried two other banks' ATMs and met with similar results. I was just about to cry for my Mum in the middle of Hiroshima when I bumped into a friend with great Japanese skills. Talk about lucky escape. Armed with his linguistic prowess we managed to retrieve money and aforementioned pharmeceuticals in short time.

The dentist had assured me that the analgesics she prescribed for me were the "strongest in Japan". If that's the case, I truly do weep for this country. Someone teach the government here the joys of codeine and ibuprofen ... and fast. I'd rather not give too much away here, but suffice to say a fellow Australian "helped out a mate" and so I was able to get some decent sleep that night.

So much for keeping these entries short!

I have to run off to work now, so I will leave you with a crappy haiku I typed into my phone one night while waiting for my food at a local restaurant.

I watched a man eat
udon. Slurping, he watched me
wait for mine to come.

When it rains it pours

I'm typing this while looking out on a spectacularly rain-soaked Hiroshima. I'm sure there are much more extreme climates for rainfall, particularly in the tropics, but at least compared to Melbourne this city is pretty amazing. The rain is so dense and the city's drainage systems so poor that it's only a matter of minutes before Hiroshima begins to feel like it is sinking back into the ocean from whence it came. (To the best of my knowledge the city is built largely on "reclaimed land". I assume this is why the rivers running through the city rise and fall at least a metre each day with the tides).

You might think this is another whinging update but the truth is far from it. I love a good downpour, especially when observed from the comfy couch of a cafe with hot coffee (I wish I could use "great" instead of "hot" but it is Japan after all). People of all walks of life continue to commute on their bicycles even when the rain is coming down so hard that it makes motorcyclists think twice. Women in business suits, high heels and burdened with LV handbags continue to pedal away with perhaps a thin plastic poncho their only protection.

If you're desirous of some resolution to my last post, I shall indulge you shortly. However now I must head off to work (at the leisurely hour of 3pm, oh yes).

A dark place

Maybe it's the painkillers. Maybe it's the alcohol (an incredibly irresponsible combination I know). Maybe it's the fact that it's 2:30am and neither of the aforementioned seem to be doing the slightest to quell this throbbing, aching, agonising pain coming from my front right tooth.

This is by far my darkest moment in Japan thus far. I spent well over $2,000 on dentists before leaving Australia (removing wisdom teeth and other such maintenance) SPECIFICALLY to avoid situations like the one in which I am now festering.

"Everything looks good" they told me.

"Come and see us when you get back" they said, laying the foundations for my false hopes; that all would be merry in my mouthful of money pits.

Now, it wouldn't be so bad were it not for the fact that Japan is devoid of painkillers that do ANYTHING at all related to "killing pain". Not even when I went to the hospital with a busted ankle, gritting my teeth as my friends helped me limp in the door, did they give me anything strong enough to be even detectable let alone useful. There are products for sale with little pictures of stylised men clutching their heads and throats which I'm beginning to believe are more intended to indicate your behaviour post-consumption rather than pre.

"You've gotta take about 8 of them at once." one expat here told me. Thanks for the advice, dear, and while I may be stupid and reckless enough to mix my painkillers with whiskey, I won't go shoving half a packful of something down my throat when I can't read a single word on the packaging.

I really don't understand it. Maybe it's because Japanese have a lower average body mass and just like they get drunk quicker, the analgesics have more effect at lower dosage. Maybe it's a cultural thing, pain builds character. "The will of the samurai" or something like that. Whatever it is, right now I would sell a kidney for a crate of codeine and ibuprofen. Stupid cliche I know, but you really don't know what you've got till it's gone. Deprive people of their usual analgesics and I bet you'd have riots and/or a booming heroin trade before morning.

So tomorrow (well later today) I have to go and find a Japanese dentist. If you'd seen the average person's teeth here you would have to doubt their existence but luckily the Hiroshima city website insists they do. From what I can understand of my private health insurance arrangements I have to pay 100% of the private health system costs up front and then wait months and months for reimbursement. Oh rapturous joy. Still, being broke sounds like a piece of cake compared to this agony I'm in now.

I realise this entry is probably quite embarrassing, both for its puerile tone of self-pity and its utter lack of points of interest for anyone reading it. Well, consider this me jumping the shark. Or maybe I'll come back and delete it once I've returned to sanity's shores.