Monthly Archives: March 2015

Backing and filling

It has been a long time since 2012.  Rereading what I wrote then and not much has changed.  There are more teeth on the plates.  I still cant eat with the things in my mouth.   The good news though is that I was at a funeral/memorial service last week and  I got up to say a bit about the dear departed and everyone clapped when I finished which was pretty nice of them.  Then afterwards several came up to me and said how well I spoke.  And one said how great it was that they could hear every word I said even in the back row.  And I wasn’t even using the mike.

So that’s good.  The old gift of gab still works.  However the mouth remains uncomfortable after more than a few hours which severely limits social interaction and I cant eat anything except icecream or very soft cheesecake when out.

I noticed that back in 2012/2013 I complained of weight loss, heading for size 8.  Now heading for something lower.   A few weeks ago I was at doctor he wanted to do blood pressure but he said, after cutting off my circulation for a while, that he couldn’t tell me what it was, my arm was too thin for the cuff to sit round properly.  Very strange.  I am more tired and lacking in energy and strength.  Better go and eat.  I hope to be back in much less than 2 years.

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Back at the Dental Hospital

Three weeks ago, or four, I had to go and get yet another tooth out. One by one they all go. Worst experience ever. All the many other extractions I’ve had done since I finished my laughingly called “course of care” a few years back, have been done by the students and I’ve had no complaints. Other than that no one has ever thought to do anything but extract, extract, extract. Same treatment as you get in jail. Thats what being poor is like here in the idiot country. Students have been courteous, sensitive, careful. Three weeks ago I got a English qualified dentist. The moment I saw her soft little weak white hands I should’ve up and bolted. But sense diminishes in proportion to pain sometimes. Even through the anaesthetic I knew she was a botcher. It was a week before I could eat or speak much. Two weeks before the swelling and bruising died down. Another week before I realized that what I thought might be a bit of scab over the mess was a sharp bit of left over tooth bone still sticking out.

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