AS THE DAYGLO LADS OF POMMY PUNK, 999, ONCE PUT IT . . . . "I'M BACK, IN FULL ATTACK" . . . . AFTER THE BEST PART OF A WEEK OFF LIFE WITH A TOOTHACHE GENERATED BY AN ABCESS THAT HAD MY SWOLLEN FACE LOOKING LIKE THE ELEPHANT MAN . . . . PAIN THAT MADE MY BROKEN LEG, WRISTS, COLLAR BONES, RIBS, FINGERS AND TOES SEEM LIKE A DODDLE . . . . I'M GOOD TO GO.
IT'S ALL BEEN SORTED COURTESY OF THREE ROOT CANALS, FOUR BOXES OF PANODIENE FORTE AND THREE TRIPLE DOSE REPEATS OF ANTIBIOTICS . . . . BY JOVE, I AM CURED, MADE WHOLE AND SET FREE . . . . THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL WAS NOT WHAT SEEMED AT SOME MOMENTS TO BE, AN ONCOMING TRAIN !!!!
I'm pretty good with pain usually, like a lot of us, broken bones, cuts, abrasions, appendicitis, falls, dislocations, tire irons to the temple, face plants . . . . get over it, get up and get back on . . . . but this shit, this is some form of hurt sent from the very heart of Satans sphincter . . . . I'd never even had a filling until I was nearly thirty, then had four wisdom teeth pulled, a couple more fillings, then the clincher . . . . the drill that graunched into a not correctly anaesthetised root zone . . . . instant, white knuckle, little boy scared freakout.
This sordid saga of pain started last Saturday night and the worst of it was finally over by mid arvo yesterday . . . . the entire left side of what is a fairly fuckin ugly mug normally, swelled up like an Elephant Man balloon, for seventy two torturous hours it felt like someone was jabbing me in the jaw with a hot needle . . . . fucking horrendous !!!!
Then when it was being cleaned out, preparatory to root canal stuff, the taste and stench of the foul shit that flooded my mouth caused me to chunder in the mouth wash basin . . . . my mate the dentist was cool, but it disturbed the bejabbers out of his gorgeous, young nurse . . . . .
Only one downside in a post-op sense . . . . because there is still quite a bit of pustulescent, stinking crud in my sinus area I am still almost brought to maximum gag reflex control capacity once or twice every hour when the stench/taste of something akin to dogshit mixed with cabbage fart floods the back of my olfactory sensors . . . . utterly and completely nauseating . . . . but nothing that can't be minimised by massive doses of burning rubber and the beautiful bouquet of exhaust fumes, it's good to back . . . . I've missed youse all as Jeff Fenech might've said . . . . XXXXX
IT'S ALL BEEN SORTED COURTESY OF THREE ROOT CANALS, FOUR BOXES OF PANODIENE FORTE AND THREE TRIPLE DOSE REPEATS OF ANTIBIOTICS . . . . BY JOVE, I AM CURED, MADE WHOLE AND SET FREE . . . . THE LIGHT AT THE END OF THE TUNNEL WAS NOT WHAT SEEMED AT SOME MOMENTS TO BE, AN ONCOMING TRAIN !!!!
I'm pretty good with pain usually, like a lot of us, broken bones, cuts, abrasions, appendicitis, falls, dislocations, tire irons to the temple, face plants . . . . get over it, get up and get back on . . . . but this shit, this is some form of hurt sent from the very heart of Satans sphincter . . . . I'd never even had a filling until I was nearly thirty, then had four wisdom teeth pulled, a couple more fillings, then the clincher . . . . the drill that graunched into a not correctly anaesthetised root zone . . . . instant, white knuckle, little boy scared freakout.
This sordid saga of pain started last Saturday night and the worst of it was finally over by mid arvo yesterday . . . . the entire left side of what is a fairly fuckin ugly mug normally, swelled up like an Elephant Man balloon, for seventy two torturous hours it felt like someone was jabbing me in the jaw with a hot needle . . . . fucking horrendous !!!!
Then when it was being cleaned out, preparatory to root canal stuff, the taste and stench of the foul shit that flooded my mouth caused me to chunder in the mouth wash basin . . . . my mate the dentist was cool, but it disturbed the bejabbers out of his gorgeous, young nurse . . . . .
Only one downside in a post-op sense . . . . because there is still quite a bit of pustulescent, stinking crud in my sinus area I am still almost brought to maximum gag reflex control capacity once or twice every hour when the stench/taste of something akin to dogshit mixed with cabbage fart floods the back of my olfactory sensors . . . . utterly and completely nauseating . . . . but nothing that can't be minimised by massive doses of burning rubber and the beautiful bouquet of exhaust fumes, it's good to back . . . . I've missed youse all as Jeff Fenech might've said . . . . XXXXX
No comments:
Post a Comment