Oh my God, give me an image of an old syringe used somewhere seventy or eighty years ago and I will be damn thankful that I was born during the time when syringes were made to look less horrifying. And to think that I hate getting a shot, it must one hell of journey for those who needed it back then. It must have gave them a hole rather than a small tiny invincible pierce.
My sister went for a minor dental surgery last week which ended up quite a major after-effects that scared the hell out of my father, mostly. She bleed from taking a tooth out as if she was bleeding while giving a birth and I mean this like seriously. Okay, I admitted that I have never been a fan of dentists and I have only got one tooth taken out by a dentist in my nineteen years of life but to see my sister went a lot like hell to me after a visit to the dentist made it quite obvious that never will I pay the same visit to that place ever again.
She got the stitches on her gum cut out today and sorry if I made it sounded a lot like hell. No, she said it was painful but it was just a slight pain. She did complaint about the stitches that bothered her the most over the week, especially when she was eating and she finally took it out. Must have been a pleasure for my sister. My sister even enjoyed iced drink and ice cream later after the visit to the dentist.
We are equal now, I often say to her. We both got one part of our body, make it internally or externally, stitched. It feels like a funny sisterhood bond that links my sister and I even closer than we have been in the past seventeen years since she was born.
No comments:
Post a Comment