Tooth Route

I drove past my dentist's practice today. Every time I do that I am reminded of when I had two teeth pulled a while ago. So, maybe writing about it will rid me of the association I make when I take that route.

Firstly, let me say, the dentist team was great. They made sure I was comfortable, communicated with me and made it a pain free experience. Most of that latter bit is down to the local anaesthetic but once the appointment has been completed that gradually wears off and then reality kicks in. My jaw (on the left side, where the work was done) felt like I'd taken a full-on right hook from Mike Tyson. 

I remember the actual procedure being pretty quick - half hour to extract both teeth. Painless at the time too since the dentist injected me in a number of different places with about four gallons of Lidocaine or Articaine, or whichever one they use (I still think in ‘old money’ so that’s about 18 litres for those of you who think like Europeans and about 32 pints for those of you who think like a pub goer). As for the actual extractions the only thing I felt was the guy boring down vigorously with a metal ‘bar’ to try and ‘lever’ the two teeth out - I guess they weren’t giving up easily having been there since the late 1800s. I have to confess thinking that in the modern age tooth extraction would be a bit more sophisticated - maybe a laser beam directed at the tooth, gently softening it and then a vacuum cleaner style suction system gently easing it away from the gum. No, I think I've been watching too much Star Trek. It's none of that. I'ts no more sophisticated that getting a pick axe and digging it out, but with the added benefit of the drugs. 

Back at home, I had to rinse my mouth regularly throughout the day with a salt and water mix that reminded me of swimming in the Dead Sea but without the heat (I know, 'cos I actually swam in it once.) On the first night after the extraction the discomfort woke me up at 4:00am. I mention the discomfort, but it might have actually been hunger that woke me, having been limited to eating like a vegetarian Trappist monk in Lent post procedure. I remember really fancying a midnight feast (if that is possible at 4:00am.) I resisted the urge and considered a paracetamol snack instead. I resisted that too. I’m not keen on taking them - I'd already had half a dozen throughout the day on top of the anaesthetic concoction! I comforted myself with the thought of breakfast - porridge through a straw.  

The things we take for granted! Anyway, I think the best course of action would be to drive a different route and maybe the memory will fade in time.