is that a goitre in your pocket?

Don’t it always seem to go, that you don’t know what you’ve got till its gone? Thanks Joni.

I once had bone structure and a razor sharp jaw that screamed authority. Now it screams like John Merrick.

After some day, months, year of procrastinating about my own personal dental care, once of my back molars has indeed given up the ghost, and the filling holding it together. Left to it’s own devices up the back it would occasionally scream for attention. Of course, a few neurofen plus or mercyndols would keep that little buggar in check.

But then he played his final card, trumping my every attempt to avoid the dentist chair. My little molar invited a friend along to play; his buddy, the abscess.

So it was time once again, to visit my lovely dental surgeon, Dr Samy, at his private practise at the Melbourne Dental Hospital. But unbeknownst to me. Dr Samy has taken his private practise out into the world of Brunswick. The liberty taken by some people! And he no longer does general dentistry.

So I rock up to see one of his partners in crime who takes a look and decided that my friend the molar cake should stay where he is. We can rebuild him. We have the technology He will be stronger, faster, more powerful … yudda yudda yudda. All I’m there for is the anaesthetic. But of course, I decide to go with this diagnosis and keep the little bastard back there complete with new chalky white compound to stop the screams of pain. And the little abscess got an eviction notice as well. Or so we thought.

So I am sent of into the world with swollen jaw, less $300, and no medications believing that my new living arrangement with the little molar is signed, sealed and delivered.

Until I wake up the next morning to find that I have now inherited a jaw line that would make the Elephant Man turn away in disgust. Yes, molars best friend and uninvited guest, the abscess, actually moved in deep into the musculature of my jaw. Oh happy day! So of I pop to seem my regular GP, Dr Beng, who is stunned that I received no antibiotics from the dentist. He filled me up with Augmentun and Panadeine Forte (god bless him) and told me that this was indeed an eviction notice and that the little abscess will evict himself in the next couple of days. Won’t that be a tasty sensation!

So I stocked up on consumes and liquids, because I have completely lost the ability to masticate even the slightest morsel of food.

Day three and the pressure of the little abscess is too much and I call the dental surgery for some rectification of day one’s events. I am placed into the care of Dr Jenny Yu.

So I hop into a cab to get me to Brunswick a-sap. Now, one thing Joni Mitchell did actually leave out of her big yellow taxi was that if a driver turns to you and says, “Which way do you want to go?” he is not asking you if you’d like to take the scenic or the bypass route. Oh no he’s not! He’s actually saying, “I have no earthly idea where I am going!” So using the terms Brunswick and Sydney Road repeatedly is like I am speaking in Aramaic. So you know that this is not going to be a pleasant ride … for either of us!

So by the time I arrive into the care of the lovely Dr Jenny Yu, I’ve spat so many chips at moron taxi man, that I’m ready to take aim and strike at her. Receptionist makes the mistake of looking at me and saying in a pacifying melodic tone, “Ooh you are swollen, aren’t you?” Gee bitch, what gave it away, the elephantitis of my lower jaw?????????

So Dr Jenny has me in the chair and decides that maybe it is time for me an molar to part company. Finally! She ever so carefully shoots me up with anaesthetic and gives it half an hour to take. Then she comes back and does so more testing, and shoots me up so more. Ahhh, the sheer relief of numbness. What I then realise is that I have been very discourteous to this very gentle and professional lady, and all that catholic guilt comes rushing back, and Sister Mary Ellen is whipping my hand with the feather duster once more.

Dr Jenny, every so carefully, almost glides the tooth out without any of the usual crunching and grinding. Then she takes aim at the abscess, and like a smiling assassin, massages him gently from his stronghold and into the awaiting suction tube. She is truth a dental artisan. I then start fawning over her like a raving lunatic to make up for being such a cranky arsed-prick when first walked in.

“Oh, yes, and there won’t be any charge for today.” I feel the need to hug her. I wipe the tear quickly away from my cheek so that no one sees.

So the swelling has gone down, but no completely away. The antibiotics are still having to vacuum and scrub the detritus left behind in my jaw muscles thanks to my little molar and his hideous friend the abscess.

Let this be a lesson to all you kiddies out there! Dental hygiene is no joke. Not even an amusing anecdote to blog about!


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