This morning I woke up with a pain in my tooth. After poking the tooth a number of times to try and work out what the problem was, the pain got notably worse and the gums around the tooth started to swell up. An hour, and a considerable amount of tooth poking later, the pain was now unbearable, and during one tooth poke I was convinced I heard a small squeaking noise.
READER, I WAS GRIPPED WITH PANIC. What if I had severe gum disease and, like the woman on the gum disease advert, all my teeth start falling out one by one until I’m left with one solitary tooth like a gigantic adult baby?!?
What if I had an abscess that continued to swell up until it took over my entire mouth and I was no longer able to hold my head up unaided due to the weight of the abcess?! I would have to start wearing one of those whiplash collars all the time to keep my head up like Avid Merrion.
What if the abscess got so bad I could no longer eat and I starved to death?!
That’s it! I thought, I can’t bear it anymore, I’m booking a dentist appointment.
Sobbing quietly to myself I picked up the phone and phoned my local dentist. “DO YOU HAVE ANY AVAILABLE APPOINTMENTS TODAY?” I wept desperately down the phone.
Half an hour later I’d managed to get my abscess weary body to the dentists surgery and gripping the side of my head in agony I limped sadly into the surgery.
What happened next, was disappointing and humiliating and cost me 18 English pounds. The dentist took one look at my teeth and told me that she could see NOTHING WRONG with me. Even worse she told me I had fantastic teeth and she didn’t even need to do any teeth scrubbing.
BUT THE PAIN?! I said with confusion. “You may have a slight inflammation of the gum,” the dentist said casually as she took her gloves off. “That can cause some discomfort.”
SOME DISCOMFORT.
I’m never having children.
A Ranson Note 