Okay, so I’m done with my second trip to the dentist in the “rebuild all your teeth” venture.
I have had nine teeth drilled now, and somewhere around sixteen holes drilled. You bet my life smiles on dentist’s wallets. I’m not sure how he counts cavities. In retrospect, I shouldn’t have skipped any dental treatment in Perth while I was there, but hindsight is 20/20. As my man Nig said, this is why he hasn’t been to the dentist in eight years and why I skipped him for just as many. Because I knew the SOB would want to drill. So now I’m paying for not letting him drill earlier. Trust me, folks, go to the damn dentist on a regular basis. I’m going to end up looking like Jaws from James Bond when this thing is over, there’s so much silver amalgam going into my mouth.
On a positive note, the guy gave me painkillers on the first visit, but wouldn’t give me any more on the second visit. Nice enough guy, but give me a fucking break, everybody hates the dentist, I’m showing up while you drill the crap out of me, do me a favor and toss me a ‘scrip for some damn painkillers. Go down a schedule and give me frickin’ Tylenol with codeine. I don’t care, but you owe me something for letting you sadistically drill the crap out of my mouth.
Don’t you just love the smell of smoke when they drill into you?
Although — God bless my old dentist in Los Angeles who used to be so liberal with his use of Novocaine. And, to tell you the truth, it doesn’t hurt that bad. Oh, it hurts, believe me, he’s doing a lot of work on me, but it’s manageable pain. Eating is a bit of a bitch, though, since I have to not use particular sides of my mouth and so on after a visit.
Six more to go. At least I get a ten-day break before the next one. Maybe that’s long enough to prescribe me another damn handful of painkillers. I fucking deserve it. I stand by that.
Thing could be worse, though. I could need a root canal. I don’t need one yet. *knock on wood*