Tails from the Bark Side

I'm so sick of spending my hard-earned cash on my fail-train of a body. I spent around £250 (luckily NHS this time, the same treatment would've been triple that had I stayed with my old dentist in Hythe) on stupid teeth this year. I've just spent £116 on my stupid eye (glasses) and it was all WRONG:

I always feel like they're rushing. Two examples of it this year. H (dentist) has the pleasure of treating me because I'm a friend of his receptionist. He's always bringing up our friendship which is a bit annoying, but the benefits outweigh that. He's brilliant - seriously mad dentist skillz. I first went to see him around this time last year, and he could tell my previously root-filled and (since) broken bottom molar had become infected at the root, just by looking at the colour of it. Didn't even poke me with the sharp stick thing, and told me I would need a new root filling and a crown. Aaargh. He said, 'No rush, I will leave you to think about it and see you again in April.'

Just before April, one of my teeth at the top started hurting. I went in to see H, who gave me a massive lecture about not going back earlier - I was meant to have booked another appointment to have treatment on it when I left that day! He turned his attention to the top hurty tooth, and root-filled and crowned it over 2 sessions - £198. When I tried to explain that it was the bottom tooth I had supposedly neglected, I got, 'No, no, you should listen to me, I could have been in trouble if you'd needed to have emergency treatment with that,' then bangs on about me being friends with his receptionist again and how he knows we're friends but he has to treat me like any other patient. (Do so then, and STFU about it!)

So. Yeah: 'You said it was my bottom molar that I had to think about fixing because it was infected and broken, not this one...'
'I know what I said. THIS one is infected,' he says. 'This top one is infected...'
'Okay, okay... I trust you...' *screaming inside*

So at the end of the treatment, in my relief to have it all over, I went and reminded him about the bottom one like a dumb-ass; I need moar injections, please. He said it just needed a filling, and he'll do it now, in fact. He did it then, and that was that. Most confusing, because I KNOW he said it needed crowning. I remember it well, because I was impressed at his speedy diagnosis. Anyway, tl;dr: Now it's broken even more and I'd be surprised if it turned out to be salvageable at all. If it is, I can't afford £198 (and more - I'd need a white crown) because I need to pay car insurance this month. So, I need to go and get it removed, most likely. I'll add to my already-questionably-good looks by being a Gummy McGappy and I'll most likely get another bollocking for my troubles. FML.

Now glasses: I went in two weeks ago for a routine eye-test, and also because I was having trouble focussing on road signs and getting eye strain - I knew I'd need a new prescription. I was in and out, no fuss - which is an understatement - I was barely there for five minutes before being told that my 'prescription is lower now because in your thirties you become less short-sighted. It's happening already!' Was a -2.75, now a -2.5. I did think it was a little quick - they didn't do all the 'better or worse?' stuff with the different lenses! At the time though, I was only happy to accept it and get home. I do love being at home. So yeah, cut to three days later, pick glasses up, can't see a damn thing. Turns out I needed a slightly more short-sighted prescription, not less. Boo, more short sighted. Yay, eyes aren't thirty years old. The glasses are off in the lab having -3.0 lenses put in, so now I have no leet sight skillz at all. Brilliant. At least when they screw up they put it right for free, unlike the dentist. Haha.

THE END.

When you read this, you're tagged. Take a picture of yourself in your current state, no changing your clothes or quickly putting on makeup. NO PHOTOSHOP. Show your flist the real you!



Here we have the Gemsy in its natural habitat, hair un-floofed, reclining in the bedroom and shopping for pretty ballet leotards working very hard on an end-of-course assessment.

(Seriously though, while I did put off starting work on this until late this afternoon by shopping, walking dogs and going to the bank, I am getting there. I think I'm going to compare sacred spaces of religious importance with those of leisure importance. Watching the DVD about Glastonbury again, I noted a Father talking about a pilgrimage to Glastonbury Abbey being about 'getting away from your human life', and that reminded me of the crap I'd read about Aristotle and shit in that other chapter innit? So, I think I now have the vague bones of a discussion. I just need to get it refined, and translate the notes from my book that say things like, 'Oh, so I could compare the Aristotle/Epicurus contrast with the 'rational recreation' crap them posh-ass Victorians banged on about' into some form of proper writing. Aaargh I shoulda done this A MONTH AGO. I'm going to take a break to rest my poor hard-working hands, to breathe a little bit and to eat the special vegetable lasagne Anna has concocted for me. I'm being spoilt again!)