Tooth is Stranger than Friction

Still having problems with my crown. Getting distinctly tarnished now, in a figurative sense. I am admittedly a complete wuss when it comes to pain (hence a five-minute labour, and even then we ended up taking the emergency exit), so when someone asks me "Well, how much does it hurt?", it's tricky. What's my frame of reference? Not child-birth, obviously. So, the "residual" pain of the root canal, does not hurt as much as a migraine, nor yet the agonizing tearing amputation-level burn of a portuguese-man-o'-war (something I always try and mention at least once during a dinner-party; "...and you know, wee really doesn't work...."), but, yes, a little bit more than a stubbed toe, or that moment you realise you have left a teensy bit of foil on a piece of Kit-Kat (the dentist's eyes were starting to glaze at this point). So he's suggested, once he retested with a bit of carbon-paper for the bite (well, they have had to find a use for it somewhere nowadays) that I go and see a root-canal specialist (how do people choose these jobs at school? I was told to become a child-nurse, and that "there is no money in art". Sage advice). This, alas, will probably wait until September, when we roll into the next year of the Tooth Insurance.

At least, it will definately wait until after our hols - in a couple of weeks' time, we're off to Las Vegas, and a Cowboy Adventure near to the Grand Canyon. We can ride ponies and sleep in wagons. I think there are also bean-feasts and compulsory fire-side singing.

The school holidays have gone whoosh (makes sudden hand-flapping movement). Already T has reached the French Cuisine week at school. Poor little thing - on the way, she asked how long it was going to be for, and I said 5 days. "But....but...I don't have any toys with me". She thought I was going to just drop her off for a week.

'Roid Rage

Having a bit of gyp with my spangly new crown, so toddled off to the dentist's yesterday to get it seen too. After 4 weeks I can still expect to "feel some discomfort", so he's prescribed me steroids. So for precisely 5 days I will be big and muscly, develop a penchant for spontaneously tearing phone directories in half and will insist on being called "Dave".

T went today, as, naturally, last thing last night she pointed out, after I told her about going to the dentists, that she herself had a tooth coming through. Behind her baby teeth at the front. At an angle. So off we went again (she was thrilled - an afternoon off school). He had a good look and said that we're to keep an eye on it, and if the bottom one doesn't come out in 10 days time, to go back and he'll do something to her tooth which I haven't yet discussed in detail with T just yet.

T doesn't mind - she thinks I'll be feeding her toffee to encourage it to come out so that the Tooth Mouse will visit.

He also said her top baby teeth are quite close together so might need "visit an orthodontist when the adult teeth move in" (American speak for "let's blow the inheritance on braces").

I've also had to order some new contact lenses. I have, theoretically if they actually arrive, got a good deal on them. Unusually none of the shops were interested in giving me any discount on a year's supply of lenses, but I immediately got a quote $180 cheaper on the inter-web. Technology is only great if it doesn't turn out to be a scam, of course.

I also spoke to the optician about having The Operation, ie Lasik. He is a practitioner himself (which makes him sound faintly pagan), but basically recommended that I didn't as I would exchange one pair of glasses for another, as it seems to encourage the early onset of "forgetting-where-I-put-my-sodding-reading-glasses-again" syndrome.