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I went to the dentist a couple of months ago for my annual check up. It went without a hitch, I had a sensitive spot but thought nothing of it; but, and as you know by now there is always a but, I was wrong once again. Slowly the pain has been increasing. I tried to ignore it at first like most men do, but since the weather has turned rather chilly over the last week or so the pain has increased.
I phoned the dentist two weeks ago and they said I would have to ask for an emergency appointment and to phone back the next morning at 8am. Did I do this? What do you think? No of course I didn't! I did what all men do and that was to try and ignore it.
It wasn't any good because by this Sunday evening my jaw ached no matter how much paracetamol I pumped into my system; so by 8am Monday morning I was on the phone and after my third attempt I got an appointment for 10am.
The dentist is only a five minute work from my home. I arrived on time and was in the chair within a few minutes. I remember in my youth there was a craze for some pubs to have a dentist's chair. The challenge would be to sit in it while the bar-man poured some cheap, but neat, spirit from the bottle straight down your throat.
As I walked into the room with its sterile features, the dentist and his two female assistants I wished at that moment I was back in some smoked filled boozer with a dentist chair, my friends and plenty of booze. Instead I got a mouth full of painful injections that made my gums, cheek, and lips go as numb as a Snow leopard's backside.
Then there was the dreaded drill. Apparently it looked like I had a small fracture in my tooth so the filling would have to be removed and then replaced. With the two young lady assistants helping the dentist I tried to be as manly about it as possible. Even with a numb mouth you can still feel the drill doing its worst, and as I laid in the chair of doom with a pair of silly sun glasses on that I was asked to wear, the sweat started to form on my brow.
When I was told that I could now swill my mouth out I thought he had finished only to be told that that he had taken some plaque off, and would now start to remove the filling. Fu#k me, I thought what hell have I got to go through now?
So he went into my mouth once again and the drilling started. It seemed to last for hours, and every few minutes I would flinch as the odd short, sharp, shock of pain, shot across my jaw. At one stage a bead of sweat trickled down the back of my skull itching like mad on its decent, but I couldn't scratch it in case it made the drill slip, and with that my final piece of dignity which I was still trying to hold onto.
In the end it was all over, well that's what I thought but I was told that only a temporary filling was put in to see if it has sorted out the problem, and that I would have to return in two weeks! If it's ok then it can stay in for a couple of years, and if it isn't then I'm back in the chair of doom for another session of driller killer.
So over the next two weeks I will be praying that pain goes away, and I won't have to go through that again for some years to come.