THE DAY FROM HELL...

It is 4 o'clock in the morning and I am wondering whom I hate more:  my dentist, or the NHS hospital I attended yesterday.  My dentist filled my tooth and left me with the face of one of the family members in Les Dawson's candle joke.  The NHS took me in for a routine ladyproblem and left my insides feeling as if  the surgeon had played them like a Nepalese damaru drum.

I was the lucky victim of a hospital cancellation which, in turn, left it too late to cancel the dentist appointment.  They need at least 24 hours' notice of the fact that your mouth will not be appearing at their surgery that afternoon, or the black-balling process begins and any tooth-related problems you have in the future will have to be solved with a piece of string and a door handle...

So began my day at the hands of the sadists.  

Add to this the appearance of the chirpy Scouse exterior decorator who had finally, after three years found space in his busy schedule of window cleaning to come to paint the house.  Frankly, I'm surprised I didn't top myself.  I couldn't even say: "Have you got fifty pee for the parking?" (at the hospital), so  I  didn't even  bother contemplating the idea of telling him to:  "Eff off..."

Hospital is a special kind of humiliation for people who cannot possibly avoid admission.   They have odd things going on in awkward places:  "No, really, I know I have a brain tumour but I'll just try and sleep it off."  Weeing in cardboard bowls, the draughty gown, the endless, endless waiting...  Some people are so sick that the hanging around doesn't bother them (so surely they must be in the right place).  However, even when off my nut on morphine I was acutely aware that another five minutes on the day ward and I would be trying to crawl home using only my lips...

I think I am angry with myself  -  for volunteering for a barbaric procedure which was comparable to using a sledgehammer to crack a nut.  Although the alternative would probably be a bit of homeopathy, lavender oil in the bath and acupuncture needles in the affected area three times a week while playing the finger cymbals by candlelight.  Maybe I'll stick with morphine, at least I know that works.