4 March 2010

Today I took my terrible tooth to the NHS dentist. Dr Nabil saw to it. He was just brilliant. I mean, what a charming, considerate professional. She’s a lucky woman who has him. I hope that she knows it. Sigh.

My tooth has been off and on for a number of weeks now. It was only inevitable that in the move, laden with the super-bug, part-consumed by the impending job loss, I would eventually succumb to an all-out infection.

Dr Nabil took three different types of x-ray with implements that can only have been created by someone who doesn’t understand the concept of ergonomics. Whilst I sat there trying desperately not to choke, trying also not to move, he looked at my tooth from every angle and declared my pain a mystery. It reminded me of that scene in Happy Go Lucky, quite a lovely piece of artful filmmaking – soft and slow, where she goes to the chiropractor, and he takes her in his big arms and contorts skinny little back as if she were a pipe-cleaner. Not that Dr Nabil was that big, nor I quite that skinny, but let’s apply it as a metaphor.

Of course, I already knew, or at least hoped, that there was nothing going on in the roots and that there was no hole in this particular tooth. I just wanted some antibiotics but could see that a GP would pack me off to a dentist before prescribing them. That’s right – I’m crafty and proud enough of it to tell you about it.

Thank you NHS. For a nominal sum of sixteen pounds and another seven for the drugs, I’m on a course to convalescence. Not that I feel it right now. Back at the office, I had to grapple with some silly urgencies, brain swimming in the ether of the paracetemol and antibiotic combination. Sandra sent me home. She’s very authoritative. Now I’m here and she is still at the office, advising some committee on some things. I cast a thought in her direction and send my sympathy southward to King’s Cross on the universal odes. Today, she wanted to discuss meditation. I used to be a fire-dancing hippie with dreads. I still have the nose-stud and tattoo to prove it. Needless to say, having moved on from that phase, I found that I could only partake in such a discussion with an ironic smile on my face, still bashing away at the emails on my screen.

I’m listening to the New York Dolls. Specifically, Looking for a Kiss. Perhaps I’ll do that… perhaps I’ll let you know what I’m listening to every now and again.

I’ll sign off now. I haven’t forgotten that I have a super-bug story to tell you. I’m just waiting for the gumption. No poems tonight, you greedy little monkeys…