The life and times of purplekitten

I mentioned some time back about having to have a tooth extracted shortly. Well, the day of DOOM was yesterday. I spent most of the previous night, and most of yesterday, in a state of wide-eyed terror. Luckily one of our directors had a (home) PC full of nasties that needed cleaning out, so I didn’t have to do any actual think-work. Just as well really, as my brain was too full of “eeeeeeek!” to actually do anything useful.

The whole tooth-removal process took half an hour, as the tooth was reluctant to leave me, and I spent that entire time crying like a baby and shaking. It was pathetic. I’m not actually afraid of the pain, I think it’s more a case of the lack of control, and the fact that I have a vivid imagination and sit there imagining all sorts of horrible dentistry accidents. One slip of that drill…. *shudder*

The net result was a tooth-count-decremented, ghostly-pale, teary, wobbly heap of a woman. I was deemed unfit to cycle the four or so miles home. So, my dentist bundled my bicycle into the back of his estate car, and drove me home. You certainly don’t get service like that on the NHS!

Seriously, he is a fantastic dentist and does his best to reassure the nervous (terrified) client. He’s so patient and comforting that I almost feel guilty for being so scared. I shall write and thank him, as his excellent customer care was most appreciated, and people don’t get thanked enough, I find.

In other news, I’d like one of these please.