Self-fulfilling Prophecy

Yesterday I developed a throbbing toothache, which last night transformed itself into pure misery.  I managed to wait until this morning to call the dentist; he prescribed antibiotics and pain medicine.  Today, there is a train track coursing between my upper teeth and my gums, the kind with the hand car  propelled by gandy dancers.  As soon as the car gets to the front center of my mouth, it reverses and swings back to its starting point, in the manner of a pendulum.  The dentist seemed to have been caught a little off guard, and he prescribed the strongest doses of medicines he could.  I've  seldom taken anything but aspirin and Tylenol, but I'm into it now, trying to head off the runaway train.