今日吃瓜

I was performing last Wednesday when a horror came over me. Do I have funky breath?

As this is a phobia of mine, I turned the venue upside down in search of a breath mint or chewing gum. Settling for an original recipe Mintie, I proceeded to chomp away. I got to my fourth chew and, crack, my molar’s temporary filling crunched off. (I was under the impression that you should be able to get at least 10 years out of a temporary filling, but later learnt it’s only about two months. Oops.)

My stinky breath forgotten, I gingerly removed the remnants of the shattered tooth and Mintie.

As I had had the start of root canal work done, there was no initial pain. Letting it slide, I went on my merry way -鈥� till Friday evening.

The pain started with a throb. Maybe my corset was too tight or I had too many pins in my hair. Either way, it was like a jackhammer directly plugged into my brain.

I hoped I could ride it out till I could see a dentist on Monday or Tuesday, so I proceeded to self-medicate with Nurofen.

Creeping from my jaw to my ear almost to my eye, I could take the pain no more. Taking other people’s advice, I dosed myself with brandy. Mum used to swear by it, Used to fix us when we were kids. I soon found that if you’re pissed on brandy, you really don’t feel anything, let alone a toothache.

By Sunday morning, I had reached breaking point with my tooth. The throbbing had reached my eye, turning me into a makeup-smeared monster, grumbling to anyone who would listen.

Madly I punched my laptop, searching for an emergency dentist, prepared to pay the world to get this thing out of me.

It seemed like an eternity before I was sitting in the dentist’s chair, but after two of the biggest metal needles I have ever seen, my face was numb. Normally I would try to save your tooth but I think it’s too far gone. Extraction is the only thing left.

With something looking like an ice pick and a pair of pliers, the dentist was soon removing a tusk-like thing from my mouth.

So with a face straight from the movie The Elephant Man, I staggered home to count my blessings on the lounge.

A couple of hundred dollars later, a puffy face and a huge hole, what a weekend it was. Now I have been told that I need an implant. Implant? Aren’t they supposed to come in twos?