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Bean Counting
Aug. 3rd, 2007 04:31 pmWell, as trips to the dentist go, that one went, er, not too well. The tooth in my upper gum on the other side of the mouth was meant to be in a better position to come down to fill the gap than the nasty impacted crooked bastard that was dealt with last week.
Unfortunately, the surgeon just could not get the little chain that was meant to attach to the tooth (thus encouraging it to come down out of the gum) to stick to the tooth. For some reason, the fucking composite bonding would not harden. It was like trying to superglue two pieces of wood together with cow paste.
After attempt number three, feeling began to return to part of my upper mouth, although I was only mildly aware of this (in the sense that the back of my shirt was now soaked in sweat and the front of my shirt was quickly catching up).
Only mildly aware of it, that is, until he started to stitch up the gum, at which point my awareness of it could reasonably be described as "anything but mild".
"Whoops", said surgeon, "that bit's suddenly come back to life", as he rammed another giant needleful of local anaesthetic up the left side of my nose, stopping a fraction short of my brain.
"Actually, it's been coming back to life for some time,", said I.
"Oh, has it? You should have said".
In fact, this was a distinct case of easier done than said, rather than easier said than done, since my mouth was jammed so wide open and had been for so long that I began to feel sorry for a couple of my ex-girlfriends.
Luckily, today has been better. The postman turned up eventually, holding not only my returned mobile phone (hooray!) but also a cheque from Barclays Stockbrokers, representing the proceeds of some of my share option scheme shares (double hooray!).
I got reet lucky selling those shares, in that if I had waited another week, I would have got a grand less. So, I guess that means I have an extra grand that I can genuinely call "fun money". All I have to do now is think of what to spend it on.
Unfortunately, the surgeon just could not get the little chain that was meant to attach to the tooth (thus encouraging it to come down out of the gum) to stick to the tooth. For some reason, the fucking composite bonding would not harden. It was like trying to superglue two pieces of wood together with cow paste.
After attempt number three, feeling began to return to part of my upper mouth, although I was only mildly aware of this (in the sense that the back of my shirt was now soaked in sweat and the front of my shirt was quickly catching up).
Only mildly aware of it, that is, until he started to stitch up the gum, at which point my awareness of it could reasonably be described as "anything but mild".
"Whoops", said surgeon, "that bit's suddenly come back to life", as he rammed another giant needleful of local anaesthetic up the left side of my nose, stopping a fraction short of my brain.
"Actually, it's been coming back to life for some time,", said I.
"Oh, has it? You should have said".
In fact, this was a distinct case of easier done than said, rather than easier said than done, since my mouth was jammed so wide open and had been for so long that I began to feel sorry for a couple of my ex-girlfriends.
Luckily, today has been better. The postman turned up eventually, holding not only my returned mobile phone (hooray!) but also a cheque from Barclays Stockbrokers, representing the proceeds of some of my share option scheme shares (double hooray!).
I got reet lucky selling those shares, in that if I had waited another week, I would have got a grand less. So, I guess that means I have an extra grand that I can genuinely call "fun money". All I have to do now is think of what to spend it on.
