♫Son be a dentist♫

A few days ago, my comedy tooth ache began to get the better of me, I became sad (some might say sadder) and irritable and tired. I say it was a comedy tooth ache for just one reason, it wasn't aching all the time (I could have got used to that, well almost), no that would have been too easy and merciful. The pain came at random intervals regardless of where I was or what I was doing. A sharp stabbing pain that connected the irritated nerve in my tooth to my brain via my arse, Owwy.
So I resolved to see the Dentist, my fear and loathing of Dentists (and all their many hellish instruments of torment) have me giving the word the capital letter d. But there is a tin foil wrapping to this greyest*spelling* of grey clouds, I was going to see an N.H.S. Dentist and so would not be asked to re-mortgage my house to pay for treatment.
The fact that I was taken on by any Dentist as an N.H.S. patient rather than a private one is almost miraculous. Just before leaving the R.N. I looked around for an N.H.S. Dentist and was told at all the reception desks that I would only be taken on as a private patient (Never gonna happen).
One Sunday at my M+P's I moaned that I'd never get a Dentist, just then M pipes up that she's got an appointment with her Dentist next week and while she's there she'll ask her Dentist if she will put me on her books.
I just thought to myself, aren't mum's great. Still looking after their "little ones" no matter how old they get (take note OLPP your sprogs are still going to need you well into their 60's), but the small cynical part of my brain that still smokes and swears at nuns thought, "never gonna happen, and that foolish optimism will get you no where".
Later that week mum called me and told me my appointment day and time. I asked her to repeat what she had just said, as I had something crazy in my ear that sounded like she had succeeded. She had and in spades.
One check-up later I'm now on the N.H.S. register of the Dentists, brilliant! (I think)

Back to the present, where was I? Ah yes, I remember.
I was at the training place I go to now and then and my comedy tooth ache decided to make my life interesting.
"That's IT!", thinks I and I search for the Dentists number on line so I can give them a bell and ask to be put out of my misery.
I find their web site, I find their number, I also find an on-line booking form, how efin' cool is that, less than 5 mins later and I'm done. I then check my e-mail for the auto response, it's there and tells me they will give a confirmed date and time within 24 hours, cool. I've since seen their online booking system in the practice, it's operated by a young fella and looks devilishly complicated, in a deceptively easy kind of way. Anyhoo, I'm booked in for this Friday afternoon.

This morning at the training place, I'm working on my new mobile blog (I'm not supposed to be in 'till the afternoon) and my phone rings, I check the caller, unknown.
Hello. Yes, speaking. Oh really, I'll see you in 20 minutes. Good morning.
They had had a cancellation at the Dentists and could do me today instead of Friday, this morning in fact.
What joy.
I normally have some lead time before going to the Dentists, time to psych myself up and to find my happy place. No such bloody luck this time, oh crapppppp!

I'm now there and waiting in the first floor waiting room, with my back to the door I was to go thru' , I didn't know this at the time though. I have 10 mins to wait, this turns into 25 mins, I don't mind. While I wait, twiddling my thumbs and sweating profusely on this crisp autumnal morning, I hear the sounds of a small girl quietly sobbing and in some obvious distress and discomfort. It's coming from behind the door that I have my back to and all I could think of was, Poor little kid. Then all the wrong memories from my past come to the surface, oh craaappp!
shutupshutupshutupshutup.
Marathon man, Little shop of horrors, a string of anonymous Dentists hiding behind their masks, the surreal trip to the Dentist on H.M.S. Invinsibe when the ship was at action stations and the Dentist wore overalls and an anti-flash hood.
ihavetogetoutihavetogetoutihavetogetoutihavetogetout

The door behind me opens and a small girl is lead out by her mum and being told that she had been a very brave girl, thoughts I shared.

A few mins later the door opens again and I hear my name called.

Ask not for whom the drill whines, it whines for thee!

I have commanded men in battle but nothing ever prepares me for the Dentist's chair

I'm 8 years old again.


It is as one of Hercules' efforts that I get hold of myself and I'm told to sit in the chair, thank bob thinks I as I was close to collapsing into it any way.

Dentists don't wear masks for hygiene, no, it's so we can't identify them in a line out.
This one is female, slim, late thirties, light brown hair (hi lighted), piercing blue eyes, 5' 11" and wearing a light blue mask with white edging.

Now the unpleasantness starts. First she asks me to face her, open my mouth as wide as I can (the wide mouth frog joke runs thru' my mind just then), relax. She then sticks me with a bicycle pump with a size 10 knitting needle attached in the back of the lower jaw, right hand side. Do Dentists get special oversized stainless steel hypo's?

Efin' long story short. There was a small amount of decay but not enough to be causing all this gyp. So what is going on?
The tooth is cracked down the centre from front to back. That will be the peppered steak I had two weeks ago, or the small bit of chicken bone that I tried to chew during my last meal in the RN. I'm going for option 2.
I have a temporary filling and have to go back in two weeks, the decision will then be made to either remove the tooth or to attempt a repair.
I can hardly wait, I'm so giddy with anticipation I could just shit.
And what was the cost of this dental abuse? A mere £15.90. Bob bless the N.H.S.
Of course it would have been free had I have been an illegal immigrant.

Excuse me, I have to go supress some memories with the aid of some strong drink.

TTFN.