Saturday, 12 May 2012

Secret Service: EPISODE 15

Perfect Retirement Housing Complex
Inner Hamlet

Pet . . .
I think the Inner Hamlet NHS dentist may have poured neat Hydrochloric acid down into the centre of my tooth.  Words like 'agony' and 'pain' are not nearly adequate to describe the extremity of the situation.  Having concluded that the tooth was affected by an 'inflammation of the pulp cavity' the practitioner gave me three injections with a view to carrying out root canal treatment.  None of these worked pet!  Although my cheek and lower lip went numb, the tooth itself was untouched.  The merest touch of the drill bit caused the equivalent of mega Joules of electricity to zap through my skull and it was impossible to go on with it.  Finally, he decided to administer "poison" to kill the pulp cavity, and to seal up the wound, prior to sending me home with assurances that the pain would ease up with every passing hour.  NOTHING in my LIFE so far has prepared me for the body-stopping effects of the giant waves of agony (isn't there a better word pet?) coursing up through my jaw and neck and into my skull on the way to the car.  I sat there for about 5 minutes, unable to achieve enough motive force to turn the engine on, never mind exit the car park.  The journey home is a blur.  All I can recall is a sort of paralysed slowness of action and extreme deliberation of any turn of the steering wheel.  I was a sorry sight indeed when I finally crawled back in through the door of the Perfect Housing Retirement Complex.  I have only been able to communicate in writing with poor Pom-Pom, who has collected the remainder of a box of Nurofen from my fruit bowl, to no avail.  All I can do is utter a pathetic whimper every 10 minutes or so, and pray for death.

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