I had a tooth pulled yesterday. One of the rear left molars on the top. Not one I'm going to miss. Three anesthetics meant there was no pain and everything seems to be healing nicely, thank you for asking. But it's a horrible experience. If I didn't hate dentists so much I probably wouldn't have had to be there but there you go. Lesson learned.
The moment that did it for me was when he snapped the tooth to be able to pull it out, breaking the roots at the tip. It's not the feeling of pressure that's being exerted within your jaw that makes the toes curl but that sharp, crunching sound that echoes around inside your head. You don't feel a thing but you know damn well what it would have felt like had the nice dentist not pumped your jaw full of drugs so you can spend the next few hours drooling out the side of your mouth like a constipated muppet. I didn't mind so much when I could feel him pulling bits of root out but every time he tried to gain some leverage using the rest of my jaw as a pivot all I could think of was to hope that he didn't slip and take a few more out in the process.
It was a good excuse to spend the morning sitting out in the sunshine on Chuffy's nose. Something I haven't done since October of last year. It reminded me after almost getting squashed last week that there are some very good things about living on boats and they're all just about to roll back in. The warm weather's on its way, the geese are getting frisky - never a good thing unless you get off on constant honking - and my tulips (from Amsterdam) are coming through.
Tunes: Rush: Rush In Rio
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