Aw mate, is it Sunday already? I shouldn’t really be complaining. I’m only in work three days next week but anyway! Back to the topic at hand, or at gums should I say. My teeth.
Last week I left you with my mouth hanging open in fear as the dentist was ready to fit me with a metal filing. Nuh uh, sir! Dis bish wants a white filling! So I rearranged my appointment for the next week to be fitted with a pearly white filling. Super duper.
Next week rolls around, it’s a good old 8am start once again as I get comfy in the dreaded dentist chair. The needle’s ready. I’m ready. Let’s do this thing.
The dentist, dental nurse and I all partake in some casual work banter, you know? Any holidays planned? What are you up to this weekend? How often do you floss? Good old questions we’ve all learned to lie in response to.
So anyway! Talking stops and in comes the needle. I’m in my fetching sunglasses to prevent a sun tan maybe? And the bib is all tied up round my neck. I close my eyes and in goes the needle to my gum. Not so bad really, I can’t actually feel it jabbing. I just get the occasional prompt to open my mouth wider.
The dentist backs away with the needle and we all chat again for another couple of minutes. Here comes the lisp. Great! The anaesthetic is working! We’re ready to go! We finish our chat as I genuinely can’t form any decent words for fear of spitting all over myself. I lay back in the chair, open wide and get ready for some drilling.
Once again, I’m prompted to open my mouth wider again and the drilling begins. It’s not unpleasant really, just not how I like to spend my mornings.
“Ok Nicola, rinse out for me.”
Rinse, rinse, rinse, spit. The pink water is the worst, right? I dab my dribbles with a tissue, lie back and open wide once again. More drilling and then I hear it…
“Can you pass me over the packing, Linda?” Says the one with the drill.
Packing?! What the hell is packing? Oh it tastes like cloves! What’s going on! Get your hands out my mouth! Somebody?! Anybody!?
Ok, minor over reaction but the dentist says something we’ve all learned to dread since the days when you’d leave the dentist with a smile and a sticker.
“Ok Nicola. Since I’ve been in drilling, I notice that there’s more decay than we thought.”
“Okthay,” I thay. “Whath douth thath meanth?” I’m really trying.
“Do you feel that?” The dentist pushes into my gum.
“Ouchth! Yeth!” I manage.
“Well, we’re going to have to carry out root treatment.”
Fan-bloody-tastic. Root treatment. So my mouth has been numbed today for nothing!?
“We’ll need to wait four to six weeks and we’ll get you back in. If you’re still keen on having the white filling, it’s going to be £161.”
Splendid! Why don’t you just take my wallet whilst you’re at it? I’ll write my credit card pin out in toothpaste. Speak your language.
Still numb, I make my way to the reception desk once again and book myself in for another appointment. Will this ever end? I’m seriously considering buying a whole new set of teeth.
Jeez! Here we go again!
Thee you thoon!