Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh.

Before you get comfortable let me warn me that this post has an X rating. Filled with pain, torture, cruelty, and bad language.

Turn away now.

I went to Vlad the impaler  the dentist yesterday.

Now my teeth have deteriorated over the years through all the bad habits of  eating too much sugary food, smoking drinking, and general other vices( Use your imagination here. Or maybe not).

I’d decided that my upper teeth were going to have a complete makeover and it was decided that a complete refurbishment was in order. Therefore some months ago Josef Mengele the dentist removed all those ailing gnashers and fitted me with a temporary denture. That was bad enough, in that I could only eat soup for a week until the pain from the removal settled down.

Not boring you I hope.

Any way whether you like it or not I shall continue.

yesterday was the  was the day for implants to be fitted into my upper jaw, to allow for a fixed plate. Now I should really have done a bit of research into the procedure. Stupidly I didn’t. If I had I’d probably have caught the first flight out of the country.

Three hours I was laid out on the rack the chair, FFS.

After at least enough anaesthetic to kill a couple of horses, which should of set alarm bells ringing, the work begun.

1. Cut open the upper gum. Bloody hell it took forever. Apparently I had the toughest gums known to man according to the sadist my dentist. (doesn’t do much for his original diagnoses that I suffered from sever gum disease, does it?).

2. Enough X rays were then taken to make me glow in the dark and set off airport scanners, most like.

3. The drill, the drill. Ok that wasn’t too bad.  Four holes in all.

4.  Another gallon or two of anaesthetic as the first lot was wearing off.

5.  Next was the inserting of the implants. These were of the self tapping variety inserted with a ratchet spanner until they were tight.

6. Now I’ve been a marine engineer for many a year and have cheated at times when the screw needs a helping hand ie with a hammer. Not approved engineering practise needless to say. I think he must have had a inferior apprenticeship to me, as he loved his hammer. Have you ever had your jaw bone hit with a hammer? It feels as if someone has rung the great peels of the bells of Westminster Abbey, in your head.

7. It’s over. No it’s not. The Executioner  decides  TFE would be advised to have one more implant (bastard). So it begins again.

8. As I posted in para 1, about cutting open my gums with a shovel (at least that’s what it felt like), of course now he has to rectify his butchery finely crafted work. Stitches had to undertaken. Though I would have preferred he used a needle rather than a crochet hook.

9. Done. Well not quite. I was ambushed on exit by the prison wardress receptionist in order to that I pay for the privilege of being tortured to within an inch of my life. Not cheap I can tell you.

Now comes for the crunch. There are rules to be observed for the next week.

No hot drinks.

No smoking.

No alcohol.

Wash my mouth out with salt water. (No, not soap and water)

A soft diet. (Whatever that means?)

Needless to say I have ignored every one of those above. After 3 hours of leaving Gitmo the surgery, my upper jaw felt as if it had been attacked by a team of Irish navvies on piece work. To cap it all, this morning I woke up to find my pillows covered in enough blood to make an axe murderer proud.

Oh and I’m back on a diet of soup. And enough pills to kill one of those horses mentioned above.

Don’t forget to book your dentist appointment on a regular basis. Best you read this on a regular basis just to make sure.