A minor inconvenience

Toothache.  Minor.  Right.

Actually, last time I had this particular form of toothache the dentist said you’ve got a bone infection (!) and I’m trying to remember if that was before or after I had that (this) particular tooth crowned.  Because I did and if that was what saved it last time, it won’t save it a second time.  And I really need this tooth!

So after a day of brutal attacks with all the vilest tasting mouthwashes known to me and feverish scrubbings and soakings at every opportunity and the largest possible number of the strongest painkillers and anti-inflammatory drugs I possess it seemed, if possible to be raging rather more.  When I went to bed, heavily dosed with paracetamol (having consumed as much nurofen as my stomach would handle), I swore at it and promised it dire treatments if it didn’t shut up and settle down (feeling sure the dentist would oblige on this if it didn’t).

When I got up this morning it was definitely worse.  So half way through the day, I gave in and phoned for an urgent appointment  (not available till Friday).  Then took some more paracetamol, and ate a scrambled egg – very carefully, no chewing- before embarking on some more soaking and scrubbing and cursing.

Then, thoroughly wound up by the wrath and imprecations I’d been hurling at my mouth (this is difficult in as much as the imprecations and most of the expressiveness of the wrath were coming from the very direction in which I wished to hurl them – mirrors and voice throwing were used together with a lot of imagination), I tackled one of the tasks on my enormous list.  When the paracetamol was in  mid-effectiveness it was possible to ignore all the horrible imaginings and throbbings coming from my jaw and even easier if  I found something else unwelcome to think about.

Later, feeling quite reckless and completely sure that the offending tooth would shortly be dragged out, leaving me with not enough teeth for any kind of sensible eating ever again (and nowhere left to which dentures could be attached), I made myself soup for dinner and looked longingly at Barney’s stew.  Then I drank several glasses of wine (which is undoubtedly a Very Bad Thing To Do in cases of infection).

Then I fell asleep watching several unusually interesting programmes* which I enjoyed dreaming about even if I didn’t quite follow what was really being shown.

Funny thing is, it seems to be settling down now.  Perhaps I was over-reacting?  I hope so because I’ve run out of oil of cloves.

Well I was going to sulk because Eldest is coming down for the weekend and Youngest and Mrs Middle and most of their partners are coming over for dinner.  I hate the thought of struggling with toothache when Eldest is around (I need all my wits around me when he’s here) and Youngest will certainly bring some really nice wine on Friday and if I go to the Dentist he’ll probably give me antibiotics so I won’t be able to drink it.  Maybe it was that thought that drove the toothache into hiding.  Maybe it’s even fled altogether.  Maybe I was just making a huge fuss over nothing much?

Or maybe it’ll be back **

Two moons

 

See you later : )

 

*Wildlife on the Zambezi River around the Victoria Falls, something about Bison in North America and The Making of Modern Britain. (Or whatever it’s called)

**Update – not back – I feel sheepish : )  That’s fine, I can handle sheepish a lot better than toothache!  However, I’m still sulking a bit because the horrible mouthwashes mean I have no idea what the meals I’m cooking taste like.  And it’s really a pain (though not so painful) eating on one side!!