I know I’m getting old, because the dentists are starting to look younger. The one who worked on my crown today had to be half my age at best. There was sooooo much drilling; I honestly felt that the young man was attempting to tap an oil well in my jaw. A couple of times as my tooth was gradually ground down, I swear I saw smoke and sparks fly out of my mouth. So if he had struck oil, it would have been a serious fire hazard and my head might have exploded.
Of course as it was me, it couldn’t be a straightforward procedure and a couple of complications inevitably arose. First the dentist accidentally nicked the side of my tongue with his drill and it took him ages to stop the bleeding. Then, when it eventually came time to take the impression of my tooth for the crown, they discovered that the largest mould tray they had wouldn’t fit my mouth and they had to enlarge it with some resin. I don’t quite know what to make of that; the last thing anyone can accuse me of is being a bigmouth.
I can’t even cheer myself up right now with my customary Friday afternoon treat of a toasted teacake because half my mouth is still numb from the needle. If I try to eat anything I might accidentally bite my tongue and start it bleeding again. And it doesn’t end there, because next week I have to go back and get the actual gold crown fitted, not to mention the small matter of having a filling in my upper jaw replaced. Who says I don’t know how to have fun?
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terrificwriter's journal
