Going to the dentist can be a drag, and with my recent experience, it's been like pulling teeth. I went for a routine check-up last November and complained of a pain-ridden wisdom tooth. The gob-quack in question identified the culprit as being passed repairing and that an extraction was in order.However, for some reason, they could not do this operation at my regular dental practice and they referred me to The Nightingale Clinic in east London. I paid the check-up fee and I made an appointment there ( the earliest they could fit me in was for three + weeks later) and then went off to buy some more painkillers.
I arrived at the clinic after nearly a month and I was looking forward to having this critter removed once and for all. Imagine my dismay when I finally realised that I had to have yet another consultation (with x-ray) and was promptly advised to make an appointment for the actual operation. The earliest they could fit me in for was after the new year. Which meant more painkillers and stumping up for yet another consultation fee. Bollocks.
So, come the day of the appointment, I stride in with my nearest and dearest in tow to drive me home post-op, when I was asked if I'd eaten anything for four hours up until then.
"Yes thanks" came the reply, only for the receptionist to inform me that I'd have to schedule yet another appointment as they didn't want any food / fluids flooding my lungs whilst I was under the general anasthetic. That was an annual leave day wasted that I could've done without.
I returned the next week, bright and bleary in the morning at half eight having just woken up from an eight hour fast to finally be admitted to the tooth-jerking room. How I remember those final seconds prior to conking out - it's like lying down after getting really pissed and you notice the room starts spinning, but without the feeling of nausea. Great stuff.
I came round after about fifteen minutes as I was being wheeled into the recovery room, making a remark along the lines of "Wow, that was better than skunk".
Chazza came in to the room and I apparently asked her; "has the vet pulled my tooth out?".
Why would anyone go through the trouble of scoring illegal drugs from unsavioury characters in a damp and grotty backstreet when stuff like this is available on the N.H.S?
I thoroughly recommend it folks...just keep eating as many sweets as you can.
7 comments:
'Stumped up the fee' - I take it the pun was intended? Glad it all went ok in the end. That picture is very frightening for a dental phobic like me. I have to pretend that something terrible and catastrophic and upsetting is going to happen to my family in order to trick myself into going to the dentist. How's Chazza's bonce?
Well, I won't mention the match on Saturday again.
But you are not going to get many comments on this post with that vile photo at the top. People pop over and then exit post-haste, feeling too ill to comment.
I did flick down to see whether there was anything more appealing in the post below and I found that Deano had followed me here as well. So I'm off!
RoMo - Chazza's bonce is still in recovery, thanks for asking.
Going to the dentist can be fine providing that they put you under with a general anasthetic, ha - no probs.
Tess - Sorry the pic has put you off, Deano just gets everywhere these days causing havoc in his wake. Even Neil Young was on the blunt end of his fiery wrath when he played at a charity match (Bournemouth V Bradford)...he should've stuck to playing a guitar with Crazyhorse, but did he listen?
No.
Fucking Dentists!
I had a very unfortunate experience at the dentist as a child, it went something like this (from what I can remember, in fact I remember it all)
I had a 'supernumeral' tooth according to my dentist and at the back of my mouth I had a couple of dodgy growing teeth? they had to come out...through 2 visits worth of laughing gas!
Come the day of the first visit I sat in the chair of pain and was put under the influence of...Zzzzzzz, then came a dream, in this dream I could hear people talking, they were not talking to me just chatting about something I couldn't understand because it sounded like a foreign language...it sounded German of all things.
Now in the dream I could see long lines of elastic cord being stretched to infinity by the people talking and every time these cords were pulled I felt pain! then I was brought back to consciousness...I told my Mother about it and she promptly informed the dentist who said that I was not properly under at the time and that he would have to increase the gas next time but was afraid to give me too much because of my age.
Come the day of the second visit..I was cacking myself, then came the gas Zzzzzzzz fuck me!! the same dream happened, the talking, the pain, German?, in my half conscious state it seemed like a horror film.
Even to this day those events still haunt me...thanks a bunch Mr Webb...CUNT!
I'm with you there Jif - dentist memory horror is the worst. I remember as a child the dentist having to pinch my nose to make me open my mouth. Finally I had to take air (or suffocate - I was going puce!) and did so quickly I bit his finger REALLY hard. I can still taste the salt now. And he had lots of gold front teeth like Jaws in James Bond. Oh god - I want to cry. I'm stopping now!
Inspired by your orthadontal post, The Dave Howes Band is working on an instrumental called Pulling Teeth. I guess we could say we're going back to our roots...
In a extracting way!
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