Diary of a CyberChondriac

I tell you I will be glad to see the back of 2009.

Up all night with horrendous pain in my jaw. This morning I realised that the bloody tape had not worked so I will never know if I grind my teeth. I rang the dentist and explained that I thought I had toothache. She told me to come to the surgery at eight thirty and someone would fit me in. I texted Manda and asked her to cover for me at work.

I ended up with the worst dentist in the practice. Mr Singh. He should have retired years ago and has shocking halitosis. I felt like offering him a polo mint but thought better of it.

He asked me if I was pregnant then proceeded to take an x-ray, which showed that the nerve in my tooth has died and I need a root filling. He gave me a prescription for penicillin and I have to see him in two weeks for a forty minute appointment. Oh joy. I bloody hate root fillings. I have had three altogether. Painful, uncomfortable and very expensive. I blame my mother for not breast feeding me as a baby. She said she
didn’t want to end up with spaniels ears. No, instead she deprived me, her precious offspring of essential calcium. She said if she had have been wealthy she would have paid a wet nurse to feed me. I am glad I was born into poverty as I could have sucked the nipple of a potential mass murderer.

It is just as well I have a months worth of overtime as I will be skint after dental bill, not to mention rent increase.

Work ok but I still feel really anxious despite being on high dose of prozac. I think the whole dental debacle has aggravated my nerve endings. I rang Mark and he was really sweet. He told me to go to his tonight and he will cook (well he can’t actually stand without crutches so he will order a ready cooked chicken and ready washed salad from Tesco).

Told Manda that Gus was getting paranoid but she said everything fine as he had arrived unannounced last night and she had told him the bladder infection excuse and he had bought it, and settled for a ‘ham shank’ instead (Manda’s words, not mine).

Rex emailed me at work. He is going to have botox at the weekend as someone in a bar thought he was thirty nine. He is actually thirty four so he was devastated. I told him he didn’t need poison injecting. He said it’s botox not heroin. He said it was no biggy and that some of his clients had it done in their lunch hour. I told him he would end up addicted and he may look like the bride of Wildenstein, or worse, Jackie Stallone. He said he would rather look like the bride of Wildenstein than have wrinkles.

God he is so vain. He already spends a fortune on expensive face creams and anti ageing masks. He offered for me to have it in my forehead but I declined as I cannot afford to keep having it done. Once it wears off I would look ancient. I think I will wait until my fifties then have a full body and face lift like Sharon Osbourne.

Rex informed me that Mercedes is having fertility treatment as she has not been able to get pregnant. I told Rex, her womb is like her personality…..hostile.

She will have a nanny anyway. I don’t know why she is bothering. I bet she ends up with a surrogate.

Trackback URI | Comments RSS