Tag: Dentist

The Painful Tooth

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

It’s not like me to complain.

Chloe Side Eye GIF

I did however have the misfortune to visit the dentist last week. I blame several traumatic experiences in my youth with a vindictive bastard of a dentist called Mr Stephens. He was the physical embodiment of loving your job. He was the Katie Hopkins of dentistry, intentionally causing upset and pain to earn a living.

I can still smell the gas he used to put me under to remove a huge molar. I was out cold but I imagine scenes of him with his knee on my chest wrenching the suspect tooth from my bleeding gums.

Steve Martin GIF

See, I’m not a fan of dentistry. Now, being all grown up, I’m not allowed to be afraid of the dentist. I should instead be afraid of more mature themes like paying the mortgage, the endless and unstoppable tide of time which ravages my body and pushes me continually closer to the grave and heartburn.

For the past few years I have seen a kind, understanding and patient dentist. There was an unspoken understanding that I was petrified of her. I never told her of my childhood experiences but she must have seen the fear in my eyes early in our relationship and she was always gentle with me. She saw me through the dark days of root canal work a few years ago without me passing out or punching her and for that she should be awarded whatever dentistry medals exist.

Recently she has been inconsiderate enough to get pregnant and she is using that as some sort of excuse to not look after my ageing teeth. When I arrived for my latest check up a few weeks ago a young lad popped his head into the waiting room to call me through. I thought it was nice that they were letting the work experience lad get involved.

As I settled into the chair, being reclined to an uncomfortable angle where they can see all your bogies, I was struck with the realisation that this teenager was tooling up to touch my teeth. As the customary sweat began to pool in areas we shall not mention, he began to chat to his equally youthful mate who was handing him stuff as he did unmentionable things to my mouth.

I know it is a cliché that as you get older you think policeman look younger. The trouble is, thanks to the Tories, I haven’t seen a policeman since sometime around 2010 (bit of politics…this may go viral) so my mind was struggling to process how this dentist, some years younger than the underwear I had on was going to cause me enormous pain in exchange for lots of money.

He didn’t of course. That was just the check up, but I did need to return for a couple of fillings and some work on the area I had root canal on a few years back. He also quoted me for work that cost about the same as a small family car, but I declined most of that as it was non life threatening and I value my money more than vanity.

The fillings went fine to be honest. There was no pain, just that uncomfortable noise and vibration that goes all the way down to your toes. However, this week I returned for the big job.

As I took my place in the chair he asked if everything was OK with his work on my last visit and did I have any questions.

“Yes, is this going to hurt?”

He smiled, thinking I was joking. When he realised I wasn’t he gave me his best sympathetic smile but crucially gave no promises. From the first injection which lasted three and half weeks and was more painful than childbirth (I know it was…I’ve seen two births and they were mild in comparison) to the frankly unnecessary amount of drilling he did, it hurt. I was in the chair for roughly two and half years and when I eventually staggered, sweaty, groggy and a little tearful out to reception, to book in for more fun next week, I wasn’t really sure what had happened or how I was going to operate the car to get to work.

Because the work isn’t yet complete, my mouth is in a state of flux, with crucial bits missing. He was just laying the foundations for future misery. Those missing bits are to be fitted on Tuesday. My mouth has felt very weird and awful all week and strangely I can’t wait to go back and get them added. I think (please God let it be true) that the awful drilly painful bits are done and the next visit will just be restorative.

Once complete I than have the joy of handing over hundreds of pounds. There are fetish web sites (I have been led to believe) that cost their customers less than I shall be paying for being hurt in this manner.

So, how was your week?

Till the next time….

Ain’t That The Tooth?

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

Years ago, when the girls were at school and we still did things like put them to bed, I remember many an evening sat on the foot of one of their beds listening to them fret about some upcoming event at school that they were not looking forward to. At the time it wasn’t appropriate for me to then spend an hour telling them about all the stuff I had coming up that I didn’t fancy either and instead I would do my best to reassure them that everything would be OK. I would tell them that worrying about this stuff would do no good and once whatever they were dreading had happened they would no doubt realise that it wasn’t actually as bad as they imagined and they would wonder why they worried so much in the first place.

These days of course my advice is seldom asked for, yet I still cast it, like bread onto a pond without ducks whilst they feign interest and resist the urge to roll their eyes and shrug their shoulders.

Last week’s blog was filled with me whining about my impending dental treatment and I have to admit that I spent a good deal of time with it on my mind. It was casting an ugly shadow over what was already looking like a crap week as we were having the house taken apart to improve it. I did not, it probably won’t surprise you, follow the golden advice outlined above that I used to impart to the girls.

As they always do, Tuesday rolled around and I made my way to the dentist feeling less than enthusiastic. Once in the waiting room I was having to do breathing exercises to prevent some sort of cardiac mishap before I was called into THE CHAIR. I assumed the position, put on the protective orange Roy Orbison glasses and paper bib and girded my loins for an abundance of pain.

“I’ll just take a quick X-Ray to see what we’re dealing with” said my dentist before leaving the room to expose me to dangerous amounts of gamma rays just like David Banner.

“Don’t make me petrified, you wouldn’t like me when I’m petrified!” I replied.

She retired to somewhere behind me to look at said X-Ray and after a couple of tuts and a sigh asked me to join her there. I stumbled across the room, confused by the out of focus orange blur everything had become to look at an image of what I assumed were my teeth.

To cut a long story short, she wasn’t happy to proceed with what she had planned as I had a shorter than expected root. Insult to injury sprang to mind, but sensing the chance to leave the place minus any pain or financial exploitation I did. The plan is to “wait and see” and review it all again in six months. I have several options at that point it seems, none of which cost less than a grand unless I have things extracted. I pray then to God of dentistry that whatever glue she used to stick my implant back in is like that Ultra No Nails stuff they sell in B&Q.

If not, well, faced with those potential costs, I think this is a good look…

You may wonder, as have I since, why she did not take that X-Ray when I went to have my implant stuck back in and she told me what the longer term solution was. My short root was, after all, of her doing when I endured the horrors of root canal work “under” her. Had she X-Rayed me back then it would have saved me many hours of fretful nonsense and it would have removed the need for you poor souls to listen to me whine about it.

Anyway, not only have I avoided something I was dreading,  but I have proved once for all that I know best, my advice is gold dust and I should be heeded and obeyed at all times….girls……are you listening?  Girls?! Oh never mind.

As Ying to that Yang however, the pain of the disruption to the house has been very real. Every evening has been spent moving all our furniture from one room to another, stripping wallpaper and generally not being able to relax. We’re not 100% finished but things are almost back to normal and I am telling myself the worst is over. That’s a lie of course as now we have to re-decorate the living and dining rooms. My lack of interest in such a task is only matched by my lack of prowess to do it well.

So having learned a great lesson this week about how worrying doesn’t help, things are rarely as bad as you imagine them and I am a big nancy when it comes to a dental visit, the only thing left for me to do is to create some inspirational message about all of this, add it to some suitably inspiring stock photograph and launch it at Facebook for everyone to like, share, comment on and then do exactly the opposite when they have shit to deal with.

fretting meme

Till the next time…..

Builder Me Up Buttercup

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

We’re busy today so this won’t take long to read.  We have impending building work about to take place in the World of Williams and so today we are clearing out two cupboards that are about to be removed.  You may relate to the fact that over the years these have become a dumping ground for all that stuff you think you have to keep but haven’t used or looked at this stuff since you crammed into that cupboard all those years ago.

It’s been a morning of mixed emotions as we throw away a lot of the crap in there along with lots of sighing at old school photos of the girls, drawings they did and a clay cow one of them made which has clearly been exposed to radiation. This picture is one of my favourites….

drawing

I hate the process of having work done to the house. Disruption does not sit well with me so the coming week or so will not be a comfortable one for me. We’re having a wooden floor through the dining and living room along with the removal of said cupboards, which currently sit in the alcoves either side of our dining room fireplace, which is also about to bite the dust. Louise is a big fan of the phrase less is more and so renovations tend to take the form of removing stuff and making things simpler.

So we have spent all morning cramming the stuff we “really” want to keep into other already full cupboards around the house. We need a bigger house or less stuff…or maybe both.

Speaking of removing stuff. One day last week I was minding my own business eating my lunch when disaster struck. Mid plum, I thought I felt the plum stone floating around in my mouth. Upon removing it, I felt as sick as you will when reading this, to discover it was my “implant” that I had fitted into one of my tooth holes when I endured root canal work a couple of years ago. In deep shock, my mind raced at the pain and expense this would inevitably lead to. I called the dentist immediately to get an appointment.

I had to wait until the following morning, with what felt like a hole this size in my mouth.

Eating was tricky and I didn’t sleep too well as I am a massive coward when it comes to the dentist. Thank Mr Stevens, my childhood dentist, who took pleasure from pain.

Thankfully, my dentist was able to glue that thing back in fairly easily but of course, life is never that simple. It needs a more long-term solution involving procedures that make my toes curl and my wallet weep. I am back there on Tuesday to have things like rods fitted and a crown added, which spookily costs what a real crown does. The fun doesn’t end there. Nope, this is a two visit procedure, so the misery and anticipation stretch out for weeks.

I am in no way feeling nervous about it……..

So if you had to dream up a really crappy week for me, you would have the builders in my house and my mouth at the same time. Still at least I get to go to work too!!  I can’t wait.

Till the next time…..

Expensive Eyes And Ageing Thighs

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

I’ve just been for an eye test and to sort out some new glasses. I haven’t done so for a good few years and being crap and old now it seemed I had a choice of getting new glasses or to have surgery on my arms to allow me to hold things far enough away from my failing eyes to be able to read it.

Knowing now what the costs of said new glasses are, as I need varifocals and all sorts of coatings and add ons I think it would have been cheaper to grow a new human and farm their healthy eyes instead. I did get a second pair for a heavily discounted price and chose to get some sunglasses in the hope that at some point in my life I will again be in some sunshine. My current pair have that thing where they turn dark in sunlight and I have hated it since the day I picked them up. I appreciate the UV protection but resent looking like half of Peters and Lee at the first sign of daylight.

This aging process is pretty much all rubbish. Not only is my eyesight like that of a 100-year-old bat, my metabolism is now so slow that last week I walked past a Labrador called Chocolate and put on four pounds. Also, why am I perpetually exhausted? I didn’t feel this tired with two kids under eighteen months to deal with and one of those didn’t sleep AT ALL until she was about twelve (Hi Rebecca!). These days if I have the audacity to be awake beyond midnight I spend the next day mainlining coffee and sugary goods to stay awake at the wheel.

I have long since been doing the audible rise. You don’t know what is? Well, if you are of a similar age to me you will. It’s when you get up and have to make a noise to do so. My body is supposed to last me at least another 30 odd years or so but with current trends I am not sure how it can.

Today of course sees thousands of folks running around London for a distance that I get tired driving. I wish you all well and do please post some more about it on social media. I think you are seriously underplaying it 🙂 I am in awe of your athleticism and dedication. I ran a bath recently and had to ingest three cans of Ralgex to get over it.

So with my new eyes on order I await the ability to see with baited breath. If you work in marketing at Vision Express might I suggest a rebrand? Two to three weeks isn’t what I would class as Express to be honest and I think there is only Carphone Warehouse who need a new name more than you do. With what I have just paid for my new glasses you can now fund a national TV and billboard campaign announcing your name change to Vision At A Leisurely Pace.

Of course at this point I should post the oft seen internet Meme which says something like…

I know that in another ten years or so, should I be blessed with still being around, I will look back on today and wonder how I moaned when I was so young/thin/athletic. I do that now on those days I referred to above when the kids were very small. At the time, I’m sure I felt like a zombie and that it would never end. I blinked and it did and now they are grown and I miss them being small.

In a week with yet more high-profile deaths, which, like most of the other notable passings this year were at an age far too young to be anywhere close to acceptable I should embrace my shoddy eyes, aching limbs and lack of energy and be grateful. Or at least see a doctor! Which reminds me, I’m at the dentist first thing tomorrow where I can give someone else lots of money to attempt to save my failing body from the ravages of time.

I should go for a nap, or a lie down in front of some crap TV now, but some fool has ordered some flat pack furniture which got delivered today. It now sits in the hall mocking me, daring me to attempt its erection. That’s a whole different story about getting old which I shall not cover here.

Till the next time….

Teethy Traumas, Gorgeous Greeks and Breaking Bad.

by mkingdon, posted in mkingdon

I seemed to be trapped in a vicious circle of harrowing dental work, groundhog day’s at work and a lack of lottery wins. I apologise for the upcoming repetition of toothy traumas.

I won’t go into too much detail about my root canal extravaganza on Thursday, except to say that it was horrendous, riddled with problems and broken apparatus, all of which led to me having to go back again this coming Thursday to get it finished.

I got home on Thursday feeling traumatised, battered, bruised with a feeling that I might just cry.

I am not the best with dentists I must admit. I blame my early experiences with a less than sympathetic dentist in my youth, which seems to have grown worse in my mind with each passing year. My current dentist is fine to be honest, but the mental scars are there, and I am a great big coward when it comes to strangers putting things in my mouth. If you know what I mean?

The rest of the week has been fairly quiet to be honest. On Friday afternoon I was taken out for lunch by work. They do a quarterly birthday lunch, taking out everyone who has celebrated a birthday in that period, which is just one example of why the company I work for is pretty damn good.

We went to a Greek restaurant in Manchester, and I went all left field and ordered Taramasalta and Moussaka. I like to push the boundaries. With that treat in mind I ventured to work on public transport on Friday morning. This wasn’t so that I could drink, but moreso that I didn’t want to take my car into the the city centre and try to find a parking spot that would cost less than my car.

Get me to the Greek

Again, I am lucky that our office has secure free parking for staff, but if you venture into the actual centre of Manchester, car parking can cost you your first born child and a couple of internal organs.

It was a sobering lesson, and a reminder of why I am resigned to the car commute for the forseeable.

As we live within walking distance of the local train station, I wandered down at about 7.40 for the 7.50 train into Manchester. I only needed smelling salts and mild cardiac manipulation once I’d been asked to pay £8 to get to Manchester and back.

It doesn’t take a genius to multiply that by five days a week to know how unworkable that is. Having fought my way onto the train, and even having found a seat, about half an hour later I disembarked at Manchester Victoria. My office is less than conveniently placed for this journey, being on the outskirts of Manchester….the complete opposite outskirt from Victoria. So I set off for a thirty five minute walk, in the thankfully dry weather.

Having left the house at 7.40, I eventually graced my desk at 9.10, complete with an impressive film of sweat across my balding pate.

Safe to say, I shall be back in the car tomorrow, and no matter how soul destroying the gradual crawl into work is (and believe me it is soul destroying) it is infinitely better than the option on the tracks.

The reason I could not consider drinking myself into oblivion at the company’s expense was that I was picking Emily and her friend up from the MEN, sorry, the Phones 4 U Arena in Manchester. They were off to watch Paramore, and had a great time. Her social media output has been pretty much all Paramore since so if you like them seek her out.

Paramore
Paramore

Louise and I are now completely engrossed in and addicted to Breaking Bad, and have almost completed the first two series now. We haven’t watched any live telly all week to be honest, and I fear we may not again until we’ve made our way through the remaining 45 episodes that appear to be on Netflix.

I am hopeful (but not very) that Louise will forget all about Downton Abbey’s return this evening. I don’t know what it is, maybe another repressed childhood experience, but I associate these Sunday evening costume drama things with everything that is bad about the end of the weekend and the looming horror of the new working week.

Sat in my pajamas, fresh from the bath, squeezing every last minute from the weekend, and hoping that my Mum and Dad wouldn’t notice that I was still up. I would even sit through the South Bank Show if it meant I didn’t have to go to bed and admit the weekend was done. Why I was in my parent’s house in my pajamas last Sunday I don’t know.

Amidst all of the week’s events, and despite my Breaking Bad addiction, I have managed to make some progress with the trip report. I am currently working on day five. I consider this healthy progress, and at this rate it shouldn’t be as long as I thought it would be before it can be unleashed. Prepare to be underwhelmed.

I can tell you that if you enjoy the usual smut ridden old clap trap, you won’t be disappointed!

Right, time to get back to it.

Till the next time……