burning, searing, itching throat.

It started 4months back and is still not ready to go. And today is one of those days where it's there with a vengeance - continuously itching and sharp pain (which I can't describe) at intervals. It's even difficult to talk loud now. I am sure it is related to the dentigeorous cyst or whatever I have in my jaw which is too infected. I am trying to listen to music as research shows it helps you forget pain(no idea if emotional or physical).  I am also trying to focus my attention on other things like : writing and not-thinking-about-the-pain which is the only advice I get from people (fucking idiots) as if that's even possible! I should probably inject them with the mucus (yeah right it came out from the cyst ! ) which gave me this infection then make them use their own therapy. I am also remembering the words from fight club :

Guided meditation works for cancer, it can work for this.
"Look at your hand," Tyler says.
Don't look at your hand.
Don't think of the word searing or flesh or tissue or charred.
Don't hear yourself cry.
Guided meditation.
You're in Ireland. Close your eyes.
You're in Ireland the summer after you left college, and you're drinking at a pub near the castle where every day busloads of English and American tourists come to kiss the Blarney stone.
"Don't shut this out," Tyler says. "Soap and human sacrifice go hand in hand."
You leave the pub in a stream of men, walking through the beaded wet car silence of streets where it's just rained. It's night. Until you get to the Blarneystone castle.
The floors in the castle are rotted away, and you climb the rock stairs with blackness getting deeper and deeper on every side with every step up. Everybody is quiet with the climb and the tradition of this little act of rebellion.
"Listen to me," Tyler says. "Open your eyes.
"In ancient history," Tyler says, "human sacrifices were made on a hill above a river. Thousands of people. Listen to me. The sacrifices were made and the bodies were burned on a pyre.
"You can cry," Tyler says. "You can go to the sink and run water over your hand, but first you have to know that you're stupid and you will die. Look at me.
"Someday," Tyler says, "you will die, and until you know that, you're useless to me."
You're in Ireland.
"You can cry," Tyler says, "but every tear that lands in the lye flakes on your skin will burn a cigarette burn scar."
Guided meditation. You're in Ireland the summer after you left college, and maybe this is where you first wanted anarchy. Years before you met Tyler Durden, before you peed in your first creme anglaise, you learned about little acts of rebellion.
In Ireland.

this is not working either maybe the ENT will have something useful when I meet him today. Fucking Indian doctors, all they have by hearted knowledge and no interest in research or figuring something out or 'think out the box' no wonder the country is so fucked up! But ego, yeah, you try explaining your doctor something you read on the internet and they'll surely tell you to let him fucking handle it, even a barber for that matter.