Tooth and Bone

My Dear Fellows & Dear Princess,

You will forgive me, I hope, for making funny faces at you while I blip today. I have just come back from the Evil Dental Hygienist and my mouth feels weird. Are those really MY teeth? I don't think so.

It was nowhere near as painful as last time, and in fact I ended up having a pleasant visit. Partly because there was not as much accumulated plaque as last time, and partly because it did not feel as if someone had just poked me in the eye with a stick.

I even ended up having a bit of a larf with Dental Hygienist. I was supposed to see Lovely Dentist as well, but this has been postponed because she has recently broken her arm.

That is not what I was laughing about. I am not a monster.

But we were speculating as to when Lovely Dentist might be back. Evil Hygienist explained that Lovely Dentist broke her left arm but that this is not her "dentistry arm". Evidently she only uses that one for holding the mirror and the teeny-tiny little Hoover that sucks up your spit. Meanwhile, one of the nurses has injured her right hand.

"So together, they could make one complete dentist," she added.

I wondered aloud if, failing that, they could get in a student, or a trained parrot. But then I had to shut up because Evil Hygienist shoved the SCREEEEE water-pick in my mouth and used it to find all the nerve-endings in my teeth.

Handily, my dentist and doctor are located in the same building, so afterward I booked myself in for a full-on, all-over, rotate-the-wheels-and-check-the-oil check up. I've been meaning to do this for a while. It occurred to me that I am nearly 50 and that therefore someone should be shoving a finger in places by now. 

No. You mustn't laugh. They need to prod you in places to ensure none of those places are ENLARGED*.

Besides, I woke up in the middle of last night feeling just rubbish. I was in so much pain that my night-time brain was sure I was dying. I was in the middle of drafting my last will and testament in my head when I did a big fart and realised it was just wind. Of course, once I'd finished farting Er Indoors thought she was dying. Honestly, she's such a drama-queen.

Therefore, it is my plan to get ahead of such health issues. Or at least prepare for them. I don't want to lose the use of anything if I can avoid it. And I really don't want to have to employ a student or a trained parrot. There are some tasks I really don't trust to a sharp beak. 

S. 

* Not in the good way.