It seems I'm doomed to triteness, but

Mark Hubbard's picture
Submitted by Mark Hubbard on Sun, 2007-09-16 09:15

... chomping away on a chicken bone tonight (with salad side dish), half of one of my back teeth disintegrated and fell out. Luckily the inside half, so I still get to keep my scruffy good looks (for now), but I've got this sinking feeling, most un-optimistic-Libertarian, that at the tender age of 41 the best bits may all be over. Most particularly because I love food, but if I end up with false teeth out of this (assuming the worst), well that's the end of it, isn't it? I've seen people with false teeth trying to eat: they get food stuck under them, they can't eat this, they can't eat that ... hopeless.

And I can't help think, okay, so I've been treating my body like a shit house for the last twenty years, but why hasn't the government been looking after my teeth better? With the amount of income tax I pay, surely, it's the least I could have expected. Why should I have to be thinking about these things all the damned time?

Anyway, I'm also wearing one shoe at the moment: I don't particularly like wearing shoes, but for some reason the middle two toes on my left foot gave up this morning, and decided to act like they're broken or something. I haven't hit them on anything, they're just of a sudden hideously sore whenever I bend them while walking, so I've had to put a shoe on for support. Which leads to the strange thing about victim psychology: walk around with a limp all day, and you pretty soon start falling into an invalid frame of mind, wondering on your own mortality. Then half of one of your teeth falls out, and casting around in your grief you start wondering why the government hasn't been making you look after yourself better.

Wandering, sorry. (Actually, I was doing something this morning when my toes went. I was rushing around on our lawn, as I have to do each morning, trying to excite our Great Dane into a pooing frenzy, as she's old and incontinent, yet an inside dog, so has to be de-activated to avoid otherwise inevitable gross errors inside, often in my office - where she has a bed - and while I'm talking to a client.)

Enough of feeling sorry for myself. Off to make a cup of tea for my wife (still cast on the sofa with her broken leg); diary entry to ring the dentist tomorrow morning before starting work. Ah, wait a minute, work. At least, I guess, that will help. Nothing better for forgetting the little problems of life, than to immerse into a productive/creative activity: just as well my life is not just one big weekend (like say if I was on a benefit). If this were a three day weekend, I reckon I'd be on a sickness benefit about Tuesday.


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Twas a rhetorical...

Mitch's picture

question Smiling

Sorry. Maybe not so obvious. Smiling

Of course private, Mitch.

Mark Hubbard's picture

Of course private, Mitch. Wash your mouth out.

 (I didn't even think it was possible to have the State pay for this?)

 

Correct me if I'm wrong,

Mitch's picture

But isn't most dental service great!?

Don't get me wrong, I HATE going to the dentist, but even in the relatively short time that I have been visiting one, technology has advanced SO much, and I have yet to find a dentist where I don't feel confident in his/her ability.

The dental service is private, right? Smiling

Ah, right. I've only been

Mark Hubbard's picture

Ah, right. I've only been partially dosing, then self medicating with beer and whisky. Some online ordering should put this right.

Mark

Lindsay Perigo's picture

Lack of Shiraz is believed to cause tooth-rot and toe-paralysis.

Just thought you should know.

Update.

Mark Hubbard's picture

I'm the proud winner of a two and a half hour root canal, to be performed in two instalments, of one and one quarter hours each. Dentist was well dressed, but that didn't make me feel any better. He was also very competent, which did.

Toes are back to working again. Pauline seems to think it may be gout: I think she's taking the mickey, as there is no swelling.

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