Oral Hygiene Very Poor
I've been emailed by a friend who can't operate comments on blogger (let us call him Mystery Dude), who says that I should stop messing about with dejunking and get on with writing one of my books.
Well, I take the point, but I still have 395 other plots to share before I can settle to anything. And I can't even get on with telling you them at the moment, not till I've had a good old wallow in the mire of self-pity.
For apparently, I suck as a human being. Its true, everyone is saying it.
First - I ming. That is to say, I am bowfin, clatty, and boggin (Non-scots click here for assistance) . I went to the dentist this morning for a thing called "crown prep". On entering the surgery I had a peek at the state-of-the-art patient record software on the computer screen. I was given a jolt by the information that I was 43 years old, yes I know I should have realised this by now. The diagram of my teeth was as expected, each tooth with a cross, a little jewelled crown or some other dentist's mark on it. But the worst was the patient notes bit, where there was a line that read:
SMOKER OH VERY POOR
At first I thought this meant that my teeth were in such a state that the dentist was forced to expostulate, as in "Oh! Very poor!". But quick as a flash I figured out OH = Oral Hygiene.
Imagine my humiliation on discovering that I rated very poor amongst a general population of teeth-users which must surely include slack kids who eat sweeties all day, old people who are still using sticks to clean their teeth, junkies and artists. And I DO clean my teeth! I DO! Not if I come home drunk obviously. Or if I'm depressed and don't have to meet anyone in a professional capacity.
I don't floss every day, but WHO DOES? I definitely have a poke about with a paper clip if anything big gets stuck in there. Frankly I think flossing with the intensity suggested by dental health professionals would be a sign of an obssessive compulsive disorder. It would be showing the world that you have nothing better to do.
Nevertheless I was ashamed so I guess it was a blessing that the crown prep was so unpleasant and painful that it took my mind off it. Fellow tooth-abusers will know the score. Your mouth is jacked open and half a pint of anaesthetic injected. Then follows 10 minutes of "Gone numb yet?" "No" "Gone numb yet?" "No" till the dentist gets bored and gets his kit out anyway. First that sucky thing that looks like an overly-elaborate shepherd's crook is hooked painfully over your bottom lip where it makes slurpy noises and just feels really uncomfortable. Then comes the drill which hurts like hell. The dentist offers the observation that it hurts even though your entire head has now gone numb, including your ears and nose because the EXTENT of the DECAY is MUCH WORSE than EXPECTED. The drilling goes on for what seems like ever and then... and then... I tell you what, the stuff he starts to pile into that cavity, it was incredible. I swear, several lengths of red string went in there. Some brown fluid that smelled like creosote. I think some candle-wax went in too. Finally, he got one of those glue guns and squirted in some Copydex. Then I had to bite on a lump of purple plasticine for ages, and when he took it out, he just tutted and threw it in the bin. So I had to do it again! But this time I had to promise to not move.
Finally he jammed an ill-fitting and sharp temporary crown on top of the whole confection and made me promise not to eat anything sticky ever again. He added that it might not work in which case I get to have root canal treatment. Yay!
Finally I got to sit up so that I could pay £325.
Now I have to go and pick the kids up and I have only scraped the surface of how I have had my nose rubbed in the festering pile of my own failings this week. More later...