QUASIMODO

The dentist.

Oh how I love the dentist.

After the last incident where they forgot my fucken appointment (don’t even get me started on that again), I just didn’t want to go.  I just couldn’t be fucked.

My knee was killing me, I was tired, grumpy and over it all. 

However, because I missed out on my last appointment, through no fault of my own, my teeth were becoming a little tender.

I needed two fillings.  Badly.  They were starting to shit me, so I had to go. 

After screaming and crying as I clambered into the car, I headed down to sunny Kilmore to deal with my fate.

I’m sitting in the waiting room no more than five minutes (two chapters of my book!), when the dental nurse calls me in.  Forgetting my knee, I stand up, gasp in pain, and collapse back into the chair.  Fucken knee!

The nurse is beside me instantly. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes…’ I laugh at my own stupidity.  ‘I hurt my knee yesterday, and I forgot myself.  I stood up normally, and paid for it, is all.’ I replied as we hobbled up the corridor to the white room of pain.

I sat myself down, relatively easily, in the torture chair, and explained to the dentist about my non-bouncability.  I then advise her that the crowns she planned on doing are off the table, because my private health cover will leave me about two grand out of pocket.  Fuck that.  I think she was a little shattered.

So today was going to involve just two fillings.  Best to get the torture over in one hit, hey? It will be over in about forty-five minutes.  It will be over in about forty-five minutes.

She pumps me full of needles to dull the filling areas (God forbid I feel anything), and as the anaesthetic kicks in, I look around the completely bland, clinical room and marvel that there are no dust bunnies anywhere.  This place is fucken immaculate.  How do they keep it so clean? Next time I come in, I’m wearing muddy boots just to fuck this shit up.

I need a housekeeper.  I need to win Tattslotto, so I can afford a housekeeper.  And a gardener.  And a man-servant.

An hour later, I hobble back out to reception, where I somehow have to tell the chick behind the desk (who is a lovely lady, even though she fucked up my last appointment) that I’m done and want to pay.

I sound like I’m mentally disabled (no disrespect), and have this constant feeling that I’m drooling everywhere.  Great.  Cos this isn’t at all embarrassing.  Though, I’m sure she’s seen this a million times before.

I get out of there as quickly as I can, two hundred dollars lighter (even after private cover).  The upside is that my handbag’s not as heavy now all of that money is gone. *rolls eyes

I fall into my car (literally) and head back into Kilmore.  I ring Mum, and whilst unintentionally talking like a retard, tell her I’m not going to call in, and I’m just going to pick up a couple of things from Coles, and head home.  I’m spent.

Between my aching knee and numb face, I’m truly defeated.

I try to take a sip of water from my bottle, but end up wearing it, because I have no fucken control over my mouth.  Great.  Can’t walk, cant talk and now spilling shit everywhere.  Clarsy.

I pull into the Coles car park and sit there for a minute deliberating.  Can I really handle this tonight?  Really?

What if I bump into someone I know?  I usually do when I’m in there?  OMG… they’re going to laugh their arses off at me limping like a gimp and drooling everywhere…

I flip down the visor and look at myself in the mirror.  I look fine.  Then I smile and frighten the shit out of myself.  I look like I’ve had a stroke! Half my fucken face is frozen!   One side is like normal, and the other is like all smiley! Pins and needles are starting to sing everywhere, and I’m smiling like a fucken freak.   What the hell am I doing?

I somehow manage to get out of the car without breaking my knee, and I quickly hobble into Coles, which in reality, is not physically possible.  There is no ‘quick’ about me at all.

Gone is my grace and poise; replaced with a fucken ridiculous looking limp that turns heads, and all I could think is please don’t see someone you know!  With this fucked up knee you can’t even run away to hide your stupid, numb stroke-like face!

I hurriedly limp around the isles, quickly grabbing the few items I needed, and hobbled to the self serve checkouts.  I’m convinced that whoever created these self-serve checkouts had clearly been to the dentist, and didn’t want to have to face or speak to anyone with their numb face, and just pay for their shit and get the fuck out.

And I do just that.  I get through the checkouts unscathed, hobble to the car, grit my teeth as I cram my busted up arse into the drivers seat, and I’m home free.

When Charlie and Jade get home, I’ve been chilling on the couch for about half an hour, ice pack on knee.

Jade comes in and starts banging on about her day (typical teenager), and when I start talking, her face freezes in horror.  ‘What’s happened to your face?’

‘Dentist.  Anaesthetic for the filling.  It numbs your face.  Well… part of it…’ I explain, whipping at the non-existent drool.  Jade just blinks a couple of times, and bursts out laughing.  She’s never had a filling in her life, so she’s never experience this or seen it before.

‘You look hilarious! Hahahahaha!’

‘Fucken thanks!’

She pauses, looks at me when I speak, and starts laughing again.  Then she starts imitating me, pulling stupid sideways faces, and speaking like an idiot.  This of course makes me start laughing, which causes more stupid faces, which causes more hysteria at my fucken expense.

Then of course, Charlie comes in, laughs at me, calls me gumby, and leaves again.  Nice.

I’m so pleased that fucking up my knee and having my face mummified over the last twenty four hours gives the people that are supposed to care about me, such pleasure.

I waited as long as I could, until I got the majority of feeling back in my face, before I organised dinner.  It was a nice dish of bbq snags and salad, not that I could taste any of it with my half-fucken-numb face, and not that I was comfortable sitting at the table with my fucked up ‘I can’t bend’ knee.

Just kill me now.

Then of course, the anaesthetic starts to wear off, and my jaw starts aching. 

Of course it would.  Much to Charlie’s disappointment, I can’t actually open my mouth very wide.  Having to sit there with my mouth forced open for fuck knows how long in the white room of pain, it is really starting to ache now.

So, numb face is substituted for an aching jaw, and I still have my fucked knee.

Seriously.  Could this week become any more challenging?

*sigh

Peace out.