Sue’s Views: On toothless wonders and ‘gum bangers’

So there I am sat in the dentist’s waiting room, driven there I hasten to add by sheer pain and desperation. You know how it goes. It’s late Thursday afternoon and you bite down on that toffee that has been lurking in your desk drawer when the sickening realisation kicks in that you have pulled out a filling.

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Now I don’t know about you, but once this happens I can’t just leave the darn thing alone, so there I am constantly running my tongue over it or inspecting it in the mirror, drool pooling like a bull mastiff from the side of my mouth, as I check out the damage. Not a pretty sight I might add.

By Thursday night, after much prodding and poking at the tooth, a dull throb begins which quickly escalates until it develops a heartbeat of its own. And let it be said at this juncture that home remedies just don’t cut it – cloves, Disprin on the tooth, salt water gargle, cold compress, and vanilla essence – hogwash I say.

Writhing on the couch in agony, I weepily tell the partner what happened. Does he show any sympathy? Not a chance. “Lay off those bloody toffees, you knew it was just a matter of time before the filling came away. You’ve been moaning about that tooth for months now,” he says as he promptly pops a chip into his mouth and adopts the coffin position on the couch.

By Friday morning I am in agony and irritated by every little darn thing as I hover around the dental surgery waiting for the hallowed portals of pain to open. Once inside, I am put on a waiting list and told to take a seat. With the morning radio jocks squawking in the background I am pulled out of my misery by a well-dressed woman taking a seat opposite me.

Out comes the cell phone in its glitterati case and off she goes. Long painted talons hover over the keyboard, tick, tick, tick, pause tickety bloody tick, pause.

By all that’s holy if she does not turn off the keyboard sound on her cell phone it will ring where the sun doesn’t shine.

A pox I say upon the person who decides the keyboard of their cell phone requires sound. It’s torture right up there with those who take to their cells in polite company and then sit with a stupid smirk plastered on their face as they scroll through whatever is amusing them.

Better yet are the “gum bangers” who whip out their cells to publically ‘bang’ on about their private life in public – keep it to yourself for crying out loud.

But I had bigger fish to fry for at that moment I was called through, and I could have sworn my toothache disappeared. Strange how that happens isn’t it? Palms sweaty with fear the worst is confirmed, the tooth has to go.

No amount of pleading proved otherwise. I am now at the last count a couple of teeth down, and fast on my way to becoming a toothless wonder. Oh well, may as well bring on the toffees and be done with it.

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