RLLauthor@outlook.com and @RLL_author GO TO AMAZON KINDLE STORE AND TYPE RLL. YOU WILL FIND MY BOOKS.

Saturday, 28 March 2015

BLOOD ON THE TOOTHBRUSH: A REPORT FROM A FUGITIVE.

Regular dental check-up? Check.
   Nothing to see here, folks. Move along.
   Oh, there was a caution from the dentist that if I spotted blood on the toothbrush I shouldn't worry. Getting into the crannies with floss, or a floss harp, might cause a spot of bleeding for a short time.

*

No blood worth mentioning.

*

Slide forward to a meal. I am not sure which one. Maybe I bit into my cheek without realising. Or a shard of food scraped the lining. Hot sauce blistered an area.
   Who knows.
   The point is this. I felt nothing. Pain is useful. It detects damage. Well, the detector was switched off.
   Slide further forward to another meal. Grab that piece of food with the tongue. Good idea. But wait a bit. What is this? A lump on the inside of my mouth, scarring the right cheek.
   What the fuck?! Instant cancer? That wasn't there earlier. And by that I mean...
   Well. It just wasn't there.
   Okay. So. It is there now. Deal with it. Explore. What does the tongue tell you? The tongue tells me I don't like this lump. No pain. Eerie. Could be anything. Or nothing.

*

I let it go. Either it was a temporary fixture and I could gleefully ignore the tissue issue. Or I'd have to DO SOMETHING ABOUT IT.
   Morning. At night I'd brushed my teeth with a machine that could probably trim hedges, truth be told. Nothing. Hassle, there was none. But in the morning...
   I sense my audience is ahead of me.
   Waving the hedge-killer around, I clean teeth electrically. And then I see blue toothpaste froth turn rusty. Blood. The dentist mentioned that. But not this much.
   Finally, I feel pain where a lump used to be. The lump exploded on contact with the toothbrush. This delayed-action mine failed to detonate the night before.
   It's a new dawn, a new day, and I'm feeling bad.

*

Afternoon rolls in, and I'm still experiencing mild hurt. But that crisis is over. So I hope. Why write about it? I thought I'd scribble the story down. It isn't a great tale. Moral?
   Be mindful of blood on the toothbrush.
   Really, though, I look at clouds and wonder how Monet would paint them. Then I wonder how I'd write about how Monet would paint them.
   However, it's blood that occupies my thoughts. So how would I handle writing about blood on the toothbrush? Bloodily? Foamily? Frothily? Painlessly?
   Briefly. It's a blog post, not a chapter of a book. I expect no follow-up or sequel. That tale is done.


No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.