The tooth extraction happened without sedation. Originally we'd planned for me to be given an hypnotic and then the surgery carried out, but then the anaesthetist let us know that they couldn't guarantee to make the time (08:15) and then, a day or so later, they said they couldn't make it at all. The dentist offered to reschedule but since I had already sorted out the time off and psychologically prepared for it I said that we could do ahead with just local anaesthetic. It's only a large molar that been's rotting for five years after all. It all went pleasantly well, I'm afraid, there's virtually nothing funny to report back on. Except the oops moment, when a chunk of filling popped out of the tooth and the dentist asked "Where did that go?" and I mimed that it had fallen back into my throat. I was sat up and instructed to cough it up :) The most entertaining bit was when the dentist drew blood -- as part of the treatment he's packed my jaw with sterilised cow-bone soaked in my own blood plasma. It looked like a rice krispie, and sounded like it when he was packing it in as well. Please don't be startled if I moo occasionally. Naturally he was worried about how I'd react to the needles, and I think he found it a little hard to believe that I have no issues at all with them, until he was drawing the blood and I was chatting happily about it. He took four vials -- again, he seemed to think there would be a problem even though I was telling him that getting blood from me was really easy. And it was that easy. Anyway, that goes off to be centrifuged to separate the red blood cells and plasma, and then he comes back in. "You need to drink more," he said. "I drink plenty of coffee," I replied, fairly certain that that's not what he meant. "Water!" Apparently most people produce 50-60% plasma when their blood is centrifuged, and the rest is red blood cells. I produced about 25-30%... it seems I should drink more water. I couldn't convince him that lots of red blood cells meant plenty of oxygen getting to my brain and organs :) The tooth came out painlessly -- it's a bit odd feeling him poke at numb gums -- he pushes the gum down to expose more of the tooth's roots and then grips the tooth firmly and basically rocks it from side to side as he pulls, and the tooth... cracks in half and only half comes out on the first pull. The the filling pings down your throat, but after that the rest of the tooth comes really easily! Then there's packing, membranes, and all the stuff that will regrow bone in there so I can have a screw put it to attach a false tooth to later on. And then we sew the wound up. That might be the worst of it because he's having to use several tools to push a tiny needle through the flesh and pull it tight enough to close the wound but not tight enough to be a problem. The 'thread' is actually PTFE and looks a bit like dental floss. But he has to pull it all the way through, so it keeps being pulled out of your mouth to its full extent.... Anyway, it's done now. I go back in two weeks to have the stitches removed; then three months after that we see how well the bone has grown and hopefully put a screw in. Then we can build a new tooth :)
So, sorry this hasn't touched on the prompt at all -- but I thought you might be interested in knowing where that story had gone to :)
Madam, for the last time: that is not for sale! "You don't look like a communist farmer," said Ben, turning towards the voice. The torch shone into where eyes should be -- blinding them -- and found only sunglasses. "You're too well dressed," he continued. "Perhaps he's one of the ones that are more equal than the rest," said Bill, strolling along the rows of hessian sacks as though he were browsing in a supermarket. "Politburo, or Okrana, perhaps?" "Didn't you have a girlfriend called Okrana once?" "Gentlemen, whatever I am, you are most certainly not communist farmers and are therefore trespassing. Who are you?" "I'm a farmer," said Ben. "Farmer Ben. Pleased to meet you, your eminent vegetableness." "I'm Farmer Bill," said Bill. "I do the animals. Well, that sounds bad, I don't do the animals per se, rather I facilitate the animals doing each other and thus ensuring a ripe harvest of chicken and pigs. Okra, her name was Okra, not Okrana! I remember her now!" "Oh that's right," said Ben. "You said she insisted you call her Ladyfinger in bed." "Hah, that got my hopes right up," said Bill. "Never came to anything though, a bloody disappointment." "Will you two shut up! I don't believe you're farmers, and I don't believe you ought to be in here. What do you think you're doing, and who are you?" "We're looking for some agricultural help," said Ben. "On account of Bill being in charge of the animals and him having odd ideas about sex, we've got chickens and pigs mating with each other, and the courgettes and turnips are looking a bit frisky too -- for vegetable levels of frisky, you understand. How do we get things back on track, like?" "I still think we should call up McD's and pitch the chicken-hot-dog to them," said Bill. "You're not involving the dog in this," said Ben. "That dog is the only thing that keeps the Henchling -- I mean the farm boy -- sane." "Enough!" The possibly-real communist farmer tore his sunglasses off and glared at them both. "Are you quite insane? You're clearly burglars of some kind, you're wandering round a condemned building late at night, you're pretending to be the worst farmers I've ever heard of -- and you're acting like this is all some kind of game! For the last time, before I get my gun out and shoot you both for anticommunist activities, tell me who you are!" "Madam, for the last time: that information is not for sale," said Ben. His torch flicked into the farmer's eyes and he started backwards with a cry of shock and pain. He stumbled over something, and then Bill and Ben were past him and unjamming the secret door and helping it close. "Do we have a dog then?" asked Bill
Greg - good lord. I'm glad it all went okay in the end. Quite confident that I would not have handled it as well as you.
These two are legitimately amazing. I love how the banter never falters in the face of potential danger/trouble/capture, and how infuriating our new guest finds it all :)
3 comments:
The tooth extraction happened without sedation. Originally we'd planned for me to be given an hypnotic and then the surgery carried out, but then the anaesthetist let us know that they couldn't guarantee to make the time (08:15) and then, a day or so later, they said they couldn't make it at all. The dentist offered to reschedule but since I had already sorted out the time off and psychologically prepared for it I said that we could do ahead with just local anaesthetic.
It's only a large molar that been's rotting for five years after all.
It all went pleasantly well, I'm afraid, there's virtually nothing funny to report back on. Except the oops moment, when a chunk of filling popped out of the tooth and the dentist asked "Where did that go?" and I mimed that it had fallen back into my throat. I was sat up and instructed to cough it up :)
The most entertaining bit was when the dentist drew blood -- as part of the treatment he's packed my jaw with sterilised cow-bone soaked in my own blood plasma. It looked like a rice krispie, and sounded like it when he was packing it in as well. Please don't be startled if I moo occasionally. Naturally he was worried about how I'd react to the needles, and I think he found it a little hard to believe that I have no issues at all with them, until he was drawing the blood and I was chatting happily about it. He took four vials -- again, he seemed to think there would be a problem even though I was telling him that getting blood from me was really easy. And it was that easy. Anyway, that goes off to be centrifuged to separate the red blood cells and plasma, and then he comes back in.
"You need to drink more," he said.
"I drink plenty of coffee," I replied, fairly certain that that's not what he meant.
"Water!"
Apparently most people produce 50-60% plasma when their blood is centrifuged, and the rest is red blood cells. I produced about 25-30%... it seems I should drink more water. I couldn't convince him that lots of red blood cells meant plenty of oxygen getting to my brain and organs :)
The tooth came out painlessly -- it's a bit odd feeling him poke at numb gums -- he pushes the gum down to expose more of the tooth's roots and then grips the tooth firmly and basically rocks it from side to side as he pulls, and the tooth... cracks in half and only half comes out on the first pull. The the filling pings down your throat, but after that the rest of the tooth comes really easily! Then there's packing, membranes, and all the stuff that will regrow bone in there so I can have a screw put it to attach a false tooth to later on. And then we sew the wound up.
That might be the worst of it because he's having to use several tools to push a tiny needle through the flesh and pull it tight enough to close the wound but not tight enough to be a problem. The 'thread' is actually PTFE and looks a bit like dental floss. But he has to pull it all the way through, so it keeps being pulled out of your mouth to its full extent....
Anyway, it's done now. I go back in two weeks to have the stitches removed; then three months after that we see how well the bone has grown and hopefully put a screw in. Then we can build a new tooth :)
So, sorry this hasn't touched on the prompt at all -- but I thought you might be interested in knowing where that story had gone to :)
Right, now let's tackle the prompt!
Madam, for the last time: that is not for sale!
"You don't look like a communist farmer," said Ben, turning towards the voice. The torch shone into where eyes should be -- blinding them -- and found only sunglasses. "You're too well dressed," he continued.
"Perhaps he's one of the ones that are more equal than the rest," said Bill, strolling along the rows of hessian sacks as though he were browsing in a supermarket. "Politburo, or Okrana, perhaps?"
"Didn't you have a girlfriend called Okrana once?"
"Gentlemen, whatever I am, you are most certainly not communist farmers and are therefore trespassing. Who are you?"
"I'm a farmer," said Ben. "Farmer Ben. Pleased to meet you, your eminent vegetableness."
"I'm Farmer Bill," said Bill. "I do the animals. Well, that sounds bad, I don't do the animals per se, rather I facilitate the animals doing each other and thus ensuring a ripe harvest of chicken and pigs. Okra, her name was Okra, not Okrana! I remember her now!"
"Oh that's right," said Ben. "You said she insisted you call her Ladyfinger in bed."
"Hah, that got my hopes right up," said Bill. "Never came to anything though, a bloody disappointment."
"Will you two shut up! I don't believe you're farmers, and I don't believe you ought to be in here. What do you think you're doing, and who are you?"
"We're looking for some agricultural help," said Ben. "On account of Bill being in charge of the animals and him having odd ideas about sex, we've got chickens and pigs mating with each other, and the courgettes and turnips are looking a bit frisky too -- for vegetable levels of frisky, you understand. How do we get things back on track, like?"
"I still think we should call up McD's and pitch the chicken-hot-dog to them," said Bill.
"You're not involving the dog in this," said Ben. "That dog is the only thing that keeps the Henchling -- I mean the farm boy -- sane."
"Enough!" The possibly-real communist farmer tore his sunglasses off and glared at them both. "Are you quite insane? You're clearly burglars of some kind, you're wandering round a condemned building late at night, you're pretending to be the worst farmers I've ever heard of -- and you're acting like this is all some kind of game! For the last time, before I get my gun out and shoot you both for anticommunist activities, tell me who you are!"
"Madam, for the last time: that information is not for sale," said Ben. His torch flicked into the farmer's eyes and he started backwards with a cry of shock and pain. He stumbled over something, and then Bill and Ben were past him and unjamming the secret door and helping it close.
"Do we have a dog then?" asked Bill
Greg - good lord. I'm glad it all went okay in the end. Quite confident that I would not have handled it as well as you.
These two are legitimately amazing. I love how the banter never falters in the face of potential danger/trouble/capture, and how infuriating our new guest finds it all :)
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