I saw the dentist again. This time for an impression. Every time I use the word impression I see Tommy Cooper in my head saying "just like that" or someone else trying to do the same shoulder shrug as his Fez sits on top of his head. Unfortunate for me as I lay back and had an anaesthetic needle plunged into the saliva glands I then tasted something disgusting. It was the liquid being pushed out again. I could feel my heart pounding away this time. I told the dentist because otherwise it would mean excruciation pain and he had another go. It didn't seem as though he put so much Novocaine in this time. It worked but didn't seem to be as numbing as last week. Like my jaw had built up a bit of resistance to it. There then happened to be a period of drilling out the old temporary filling, cleaning it and throwing a moulding cast in my mouth. The plaster like material and a pungent smell, like lots of chemicals had been put into it. I wondered whether this would mean I'd glow in the dark later. I'll check my skin when I go to bed and find out. It'll save on electric if I do. I gagged and choked a little as the top impression was some kind of suffocating torture. The dentist said "breath through your nose." I was hardly going to breath through my arse. He had two fingers in my mouth at the time and was holding the mould in place. I kept trying to relax and open my mouth wider. Thinking to myself the image of walking through a park with my nephews. Chestnuts scattered on the ground and autumn leaves everywhere. It didn't work so much this time. I have to undertake some serious auto hypnotic suggestion practice if it is ever going to help. Maybe I should try carrying one of those pocket watches. Who knows? Anything to help. Importantly the impression of the lower jaw went smoothly and this was the jaw with the troublesome tooth.
I pondered as I endured the entire experience. Should I have asked for it to be pulled? Then it would of been the beginning of the rocky road to toothlessness. Then I'd be called the short, fat and gummy man. It has to start someplace, this might of been the place to start it. Lower right jaw a vacant space. But like anything else it's the fear of change, of old age and another sign of physical entropy. Bloody old age, you gotta fight it, stave it off and it's effects at every turn. Reminder get you belly down at the gym again. Going through the experience of drilling and impression taking is time consuming. Whereas, to of had it pulled may have been quicker. Except for the healing process and a hole in my jaw where there was once a tooth root would be present. I suppose we are all like this and don't want to admit to the change, it's daunting is all I can say. Then I'm not the only one.
I had a series of weird text messages from Sparkling this evening. There was a problem with communication. I couldn't understand what she was writing. Half of it was gobbledygook. Very odd. I got the just of it somehow, after a few minutes of concentration and head scratching. She wanted me to ring her. I tried but the signal could not of been good enough for a phone call. Sparkles had forgotten her glasses. The small text of her mobile was hardly readable from her point of view. Which makes me wonder how she managed to read my reply text messages. Sparkling confessed to not being able to do much without her glasses, like me she's been effected by the aging goblins. I have two sets of glasses, one to see normal things and another older prescription set which work better with close work. Their prescription is slightly weaker but they are perfect for close stuff. Falling apart. As they say, you should count your blessings. I still have my hearing, good looks, half of my hair, it would be worse if all my hair had gone, I have a full sense of smell possibly on account of my nose getting bigger each year so I can smell more. It's one of the few items which continues to grow regardless of age, and as of yet I have no artificial joints. I still have a number of people I love, nearly all family related and I get great enjoyment from food. While I have my own teeth that is. So counting my blessings I still have more going for me than not going for me. All I'd like now is for the Monkees to have a revival and for fat bellies to be found scientifically good.
Also on a good note, at it still takes more than two hands to count my teeth. Yes, I got something to smile about.
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