The Dentist (Part 1)

The day I had been dreading arrived. The determination of a filling to oust one of my molars and claim the root as its own meant a trip to the dentist was regrettably necessary. Things began well.

“You have very clean teeth.”
“Rank roo.”
“1,2,3,4,5 ok… 6 needs some work… ah.”

He put a camera in my mouth and took several photos. After some examination, whispering and several telephone calls, he came back to me.

“Right. This is the tooth that you’ve cracked.”
“Ok.”
“This dark bit here is where decay has got underneath the filling.”
“Oh dear.”
“These two green things are lichens, the species of which where having some difficulty in determining.”
“Right.”
“And over here you’ll see a portable barbeque and wagon tracks which would suggest evidence of Romany travellers.”
“Excellent.”

It would appear that my tooth was not displaced by the filling; rather a collection of unwelcome lodgers who were trying to nestle in underneath it. After a good buffing that left my pearlies whiter than white, I had to book in another appointment to have the filling drilled out and replaced. But not before National Geographic comes round to inspect my lichens. I’ll let you know how it goes.

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