Dentistry is no laughing matter

I finally bit the bullet, or rather after biting on a chocolate bar which caused the kind of searing pain I last experienced in childbirth, in the general vicinity of my lower right wisdom tooth, I decided that after five years it was probably time to reacquaint myself with the dentist. I stopped visiting after a winged serpent creature from hell masquerading as a dental hygienist castigated me once too often for flinching when she stabbed me with a needle the size of a tooth pick, and I decided that either she had to die, or I had to neglect my molars. The alleged woman's face was incapable of breaking into a smile, and she made no secret of the fact that she found my nerve induced attempts at humour to be incredibly tedious. After considering the pros and cons of life imprisonment I concluded that, quite frankly, there are more interesting hate figures in my life that I would prefer to do time for, and therefore have ignored the check up reminders ever since.

I've been treating the pain with neurofen plus for a while but this week when I went to buy my 24 pack - the largest the nanny state allows you to purchase in one go - the pharmacist begged me to visit the dentist. Why can't we buy more than 24 painkillers in one go, it just doesn't make sense. If someone was hell bent on suicide by overdose they would clearly go to the double of visiting more than one pharmacy in order to get the job done.

During my five year break dental technology has moved on, and I was very impressed with the slide show presentation laid on my Dan - strange being on first name terms with someone that's about to do battle with your oral cavity - after he photographed and x-rayed each tooth, he explained why I'm in such pain. It was a bit like watching Peter Snow analysing election results: if you look at this pre-molar you will note the slight red shading indicating a dyxtal cavity, but the blue hint is suggestive of a resurgence of periodontal exclusion... It was about as fascinating as being shown live feed of my cervix during a biopsy a few years ago. There are just some things you can get through life quite contentedly not knowing. All I wanted him to do was extract the offending tooth. After the procedure he complemented me on my apparent lack of a gag reflex, but despite the fact that he's pretty hot as dentists go, I resisted the urge offer a quid pro quo for the costs of the treatment - you pull, I blow.