Both of us have tried the rest, but TIDY TOOTH are the best!
When I was a kid, I always wanted to be older but what happened this week is not what I had expected: first two more bloodtests on Tuesday, one before I had drunk a nauseatingly sweet Glucose Tolerance Test drink and then another one two hours later; then a chest x-ray conducted by a chap who knew that in Germany we call it "Röntgen", both as a proper noun and as a verb, in honour of Wilhelm Conrad Röntgen who first produced and detected electromagnetic radiation in a wavelength range known as X-rays or Röntgen rays (I'm "doing a Barry Jones" here as I'm always concerned about your education); followed by a CT scan to detect any blockages in my neck that may stop blood from reaching the brain; and finally a brain scan which was noisy and a bit scary (although they gave me a discount at the end as there'd been not much to scan!)
As I sat there for two hours, without a book, waiting for my glucose tolerance to kick in, I noticed this instruction on the wall which made me think that even in little Moruya we now cater to all ethnic groups, Jewish people and Muslims included (hint: "Where appropriate ...").
They also wired me up for 24 hours to a heart monitor, but there wasn't much to see there either, as I slept for most of the 24 hours to recover from the ordeal before. Then, yesterday, the final ordeal: a visit to TIDY TOOTH, my favourite dental surgery run by two Irish chaps who, with three surgeries, seem to have cornered the dental industry in the Bay.
Ever since my cancer operation and the subsequent therapy six years ago, my teeth have progressively (or should that be 'regressively'?) broken off and I am well on the way to at least a partial dental plate if I want to continue my occasional visits to KFC and not spend what little there is left of my life on endless pumpkin soup and soggy biscuits.
Eoin Lehane, one of the Irish dentists himself (and don't even ask me to pronounce his name), prepped me up with enough painkillers to put a horse to sleep, and then put a pair of dark glasses on my face (although I would've preferred a blindfold) before getting to work with hammer and tongs on my three totally broken-off maxillary (look it up!) incisors.
An hour later, I was all toothless smiles, and two hours later, I was back home and well into my first antibiotic and already a second NUROFEN before the anaesthetics had fully worn off. How did I get so old so soon?
(I am writing this at three o'clock in the morning to distract myself from the pain and to swallow another NUROFEN before returning to my bed.)
