Yesterday, Mr Noah was feeling a bit sorry for himself, the dreaded appointment had arrived for the pulling of a tooth. Three weeks ago, M. Fresch, our dentist, had reluctantly informed me that there was nothing further to be done to one of my lower right molars. The nerve had been removed ages ago, but now apparently the remaining stump had perforated and nothing could be constructed on such a poor foundation.
I feel part of his reluctance was due to the fact that a patient's surviving tooth can be a source of dental revenue for year, as good as a pension... Still, I have several crowned teeth which are still valiantly chewing away, so we both benefit.
One of the things I most appreciate about M. Fresch, is that he avoids hurting his clients, and yesterday he injected loads of local anaesthetic all around the doomed molar before cutting it in half and pulling the two stumps with a minimum of pain or fuss. His job was rendered a bit more difficult as I take Kardegic or soluble aspirin to thin the blood, which means I bleed more than normal. Still, he managed well in spite of this, though I did leave the surgery with a cotton pad clenched between my jaws like a dog with a bone....
I'm glad to say my mouth feels better today, though it will be several days before I can eat crispy food. One (further) down, still loads to go, not bad at seventy plus. I wonder how the original Noah fared, he was said to be over seven hundred years old when the Ark floated off.....
Bye for now, going to eat something soft...
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