Despite feeling as sick as a dog all day at work yesterday, I had a dentist appointment to keep straight after. To be honest, I was ready to go home by about 9.30 in the morning, but struggled through the day and was just about conscious by the time the appointment rolled around.
I’m always amazed by the dentist. Where else can you pay good money to be poked and prodded, made to taste your own blood, and then be told that you’re inept at looking after yourself?
I have no fear of dentists per se, just the usual telling off I have for not caring for my teeth properly, which I’ve had on and off for, oooh, about 24 years. I go there fully expecting it to hurt a little (or a lot…), but it doesn’t bother me. No pain, no gain, and so on.
More recently, I’ve been scared of the bills with which I’ve been faced. They’re just coming up £1000, and yesterday I was told that I need a filling, which will no doubt add another 10% to the final cost.
The price we pay for a combination of vanity and health.
