Me? Oh, nothing dramatic. Other than having a huge tooth yanked out of my mouth with big pliers.
Well, I say tooth. But it was only really the root - the rest having been broken off a couple of weeks ago. That might sound like the procedure was therefore less of an ordeal, however, the opposite is true.
If the whole tooth had been there, my dentist could in theory have achieved a firm grip of the bugger with her instrument of torture. As it was, she had to dig into my gum in search of something to clamp on to. And when she did get hold of the offending piece of me, she seemed to take great pleasure in rocking my head around violently (think AC/DC fan) in an attempt to get it out. For a good 10 minutes.
At one point I told her I felt like a horse (and even had the legendary song "My Lovely Horse" from Father Ted cantering through my head) but I think my quip just stiffened her resolve (and my neck).
Anyway, it came out in the end and I've been drinking my own blood ever since. And to think, I lovingly polished that tooth for all those years.
Further news is that I'm not allowed tea, coffee, hot food or anything delightfully alcoholic until tomorrow.
Still, the bad days make the good days more fun, eh?!
