About an hour from now, I'll be clobbered over the head with a brick then some evil butchers are going to extract my freaky wisdom teeth with pliers. Well aparently it's a lot more gentle than that, but try telling that to the tumble-dryer nerves in my stomach. I was explaining to Witold that I had four very aggressive toothies plotting to take over my mouth in bloody revolution, and he drew an Artist's Impression of the rogue choppers. Don't you love 'em?
So I am scared. Anyone in a white coat and authorative manner chills me to the bone. They had to hold my hand and bribe me with jellybeans to get a tetanus shot, and I was nineteen years old. So I've always done my darndest to avoid medical procedures, aside from The Finger incident. Today's fears include:
- Being one of of those freaks on A Current Affair with an I Woke Up During My Surgery And Couldn't Cry For Help story
- Saying stupid things when I come out of the anaesthetic
- Terrifying small children with my swollen chipmunk face
Which is why I am writing this a mere hour before my mouth is ransacked, so I don't have to listen to your dental horror stories and/or you telling me to stop being such a pussy 🙂