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| It's in the Underguide sonny! |
There I was, slightly distracted in a chair.
With a broken tooth. And a half-tooth sized gap where half my tooth wasn't. If I dared have a bacon roll for breakfast in the canteen - which I dared every morning - huge great big bits of bacon would wedge in the gap. Infact entire rashers of bacon would just disappear in amongst my molars, then fall out during progress meetings with the Customer Services manager. There would be him asking "What's wrong with these policy maturity unit statements?" and there would be me sitting - distracted - in the chair, then stopping, reaching under the desk, gobbing a sizeable sliver of Danish rindless unsmoked back into the wastepaper basket, apologising, then continuing "sorry, where were we?" by which time some other meeting attendee who'd been unconsciously sniffing the delights of the previously cooked pigs insides that were now in the bin would be suggesting "let's finish the meeting in the canteen, so we can get some tea and a bacon sarny".
There I was, a tad aggrieved in a chair.
With a patched up tooth. And crumbs of dental cement in my mouth. A month had passed, and a bit more tooth had fallen off whilst on holiday. A bit more still was forcefully removed by the holiday village dentist, who'd seen me coming a mile off. There was her advising me to "rinse with the solution and spit in the receptacle" and there was me sitting - aggrieved - in the chair, rinsing, then spitting, then wiping my mouth with what I assumed to be a napkin placed by the receptacle specifically for this purpose, and asking "how long do temporary fillings last?" and her answering "a couple of weeks at the most. That'll be 25 pounds please".
There I was, fairly embarrassed in a chair.
With a mouth full of half decent teeth. And a handful of slightly dodgy ones. A year had passed, and the temporary filling was still in, but it was giving me jip. So I went to the local dentist. There was her enquiring "you haven't had dental treatment for a while have you?" and there was me sitting - embarrassed - in the chair, sheepishly responding "well, other than last year, I haven't been to a dentist since I was 16", and her showing me some x-rays and explaining that here were the three manky teeth, and me naively replying "yeah, just whip them out, I've got plenty of others".
There I was, quite contented in a chair.
With a needle in my mouth. And a rapidly numbing gum. A week had passed, and I'd returned for my extraction appointment. I'd never had a local anaesthetic before. The dentist put me at ease. There was her saying "lets have a go", then proceeding to have a go, and there was me sitting - contented - in the chair, thinking "this is like a walk in the park (just without the walking and the park)", and her passing the time while my mouth went numb pointing at x-rays again, and me suddenly blurting out "errm, am I meant to be feeling sick at this point?" and her saying "no!" and me muttering "ah, I think I'm going to ..."
There I was, reasonably nauseous in a chair.
With a flock of dental nurses undoing my collar. And dabbing at me with cold flannels. A minute or two had passed, and after the novelty of the cold flannels and collar undoing had worn off, I then realised that the sickness hadn't worn off, and that I couldn't feel my legs. The dental nurses kept dabbing and flapping. There was them crooning "are you OK?" and there was me laying - nauseous - in the chair, trying to sit, lurching, putting on a brave face saying "I'm alright now, you can carry on" and the dentist snapping "no way am I taking your tooth out after that little episode".
There I was, mostly unconscious in a chair.
With a crowbar in my gob. And a bright light shining in my eyes. A number of months had passed, and I'd been referred to the hospital. I'd all but given up on the National Health Service when the appointment came through. My notes had explained the situation regarding my apparent propensity to pass out under local anaesthetic. But we were having another go. The hospital dentist didn't seem that fussed. There was him jamming a crowbar in my gob while shouting "stay awake, keep your eyes open", and an old woman with a tube in there sucking blood and bits of enamel out, with him shouting at her "keep your head out of the light you daft bat", and me mumbling "hiii haaan heaaa hy haaass" 1, and with him stabbing me in the arm with sharp things shouting "can you feel that", and with me bawling "heeeaa, aaahaagh, hiii haaan heaaa a hiia, huu hi haaan oooo heaa, hooaa hiiia" 2, and him elbowing on my chest for improved leverage and shouting "I don't think we'll be taking both teeth out today", and me sobbing "hoo hoo haaa ho hiaaough?" 3
There I was, slightly toothless in a chair.
