Ouch!!!

"How have you been since saw you two weeks ago?" enquired the dentist.

"Ten days of pain," I reported grimly. He looked a bit non-plussed.

He started drilling away, removing the old filling. He hadn't given me a jab because the nerves were dead. Or were they? He rodded out two roots, the ones that had been infected, then, when he stuck the metal probe into the third root, the one the healthy nerve had been taken from, I hit the roof.

"That shouldn't happen," said the dentist. He filled a syringe with anaesthetic and stuck it up the root. If I could have spoken, I'd have said some extremely rude words. It hurt. In fact, I quivered and yelled so much that the dental nurse sweetly took hold of my hand.

"Oh dear. This is very rare. I've only known two or three other cases. There must be a piece of nerve left behind and the anaesthetic hasn't got through. I'll have to give you a jab at the other end of the tooth," I was told. "This might be a bit uncomfortable." It was nothing compared to the jabs in the nerve.

Hardly giving the novocaine a chance to work, he recommenced rodding the drains, to the accompaniment of more ouches. I dug my nails so hard into the back of my other hand that I still have the impressions.

When he'd finished, he warned me that I might experience even more pain than after the last visit. Oh dear. At least I could stomach a Nurofen or two a fortnight ago, but since then, and probably because of the Nurofen, my stomach ulcers have flared up again, so I'll have to rely on Paracetamol, hot water bottles and arnica tablets.

Or maybe - please, Guardian Angel, are you listening up there? - it won't hurt at all.