I cannot feel my mouth.
This is because I have just been to the dentist and three fillings have left my mouth completely numb. As a result I cannot eat although this is mainly due to the fear that if I tried I would resemble a baby refusing to eat mushy peas.
This is not a rant. I actually like my new dentist. My dentist up North could be a bit of a prat and its nice to have change. That said it is rather annoying that as soon as I ended the surgery he began telling me that he’d just got back off a holiday in Majorca which is not what you want to hear from the man you are about the pay £186 for less than an hours work. It will be of much comfort to me as I eat my Sainsbury’s Basics Gruel for the rest of the term to know that my student loan gave him a nice break.
It could be worse, my Dad’s doctor charges by the minute so he reckoned he’d payed about £30 for smalltalk on his last visit. It would have been cheaper for him to call one of those sex chat lines you see advertised in the back of magazines and he would have got to talk to a ‘sexy lady’ rather than short balding man who lives on a disused mushroom farm. Honestly.
I saw a sex text line advertised the other day where for £1.50 a text you can flirt with a ‘sexy lady’. There was a picture of the lady and, to be fair, she was quite sexy but how do you know you’re not texting some 40 year old bloke from Burnley (or a short balding man who lives on a disused mushroom farm). I reckon there’s good money to be made here so if anyone is lonely tonight, text me and I’ll send you a kinky message back for £1.50. In case you were wondering I look like Mischa Barton.
Halfway through my treatment, the dentist had to stop so a plumber could come in and have a look at a leak that had sprung from the chair the week before. I lay there pondering how a chair could leak as the dentist, dental nurse, receptionist and plumber stood over me discussing ways in which the chair could me moved out of the way so the plumber could take a closer look. One method involved lifting me (and the chair) upwards a few feet and although I got a childlike sense of enjoyment from this it didn’t help.
Although, like I said, I like my dentist and am happy with the work he has done, just not the price. My only real complaint would be to the dental nurse who clearly had no control over the mouth-hoover she was holding and frequently sucked up my cheek, tongue and lips and often all three in the same manoeuvre.
I still have no feeling in my mouth. Eurgh.
Worst of all, I didn’t get a sticker with Fireman Sam on it saying ‘I was brave at the dentists’. My mum once told me that when she was little the dentist would always give her sweets if she was ‘brave’. Though that was back in the days when you got a packet of fags at the doctors and free heroin at the Priory.