A Happy New Year...?

Brace yourselves for a shock; I like New Years Eve. I absolutely love it. It holds more excitement than Christmas or birthdays. I always stay up to see the new year in and stick two fingers up at the old year slopping off in disgrace into the distance. After a particularly tough 2015 I was extra excited to say Adios to this year and start a lovely, bright, brand new year as soon as possible. Think of all the possibilities and opportunities that lay ahead. Its like binning your page of scribbles and getting a clean sheet of paper and starting all over again. I always make new year resolutions. My resolutions for 2016 are condensed into one point. BE HAPPY. That's it. That's all I want 2016 to yield. I don't want any nasty occurrences or startling mishaps. I don't want any drama or any capers. I don't want any major highs or major lows. I want to ride a steady course in the new year. I am just going to keep my head down and stay well and truly out of trouble. I plan to avoid making any huge life changes and just sit comfortably in my well dug rut on my own with a smile on my face. Heavenly.

If only life was like that.

Already my 2016 plans have been scuppered. I have been having seriously painful toothache recently and have been putting off going to the dentist. I will be honest and hold my hands up and say I haven't been to the dentist for about 17 years. I have never had toothache or any problems with my teeth until now. I have no fillings. I brush two or three times a day, occasionally I might use a whitener or have a swig of mouthwash but that is the extent of my oral hygiene routine. So, when I got the sensation of Satan driving his flaming pitchfork into the back of my jaw I really had never experienced pain like it. Having discovered my childhood dentist didn't accept NHS patients anymore I searched through the local directory to find a dentist who would help a common peasant like myself. I contacted dentist after dentist and got turned away each time. But then I found one called the Village Dentist in the next town. I rang their number and was told they had room for new NHS patients and they even could see me that same day to look at my tooth. I was so grateful that I nearly started crying when I was booking the appointment with the receptionist. However, when I ended the call I began to wonder why, when every other practice was full to the rafters with patients, was the Village Dentist so freely available. I began to have horror movie scenes of bloody buzzing drills being held by masked maniacs rush into my head but I had to pull myself together as the toothache was becoming unbearable and I needed to get it fixed sharpish.
I attended the appointment. I explained that I hadn't had a check up for a while. The dentist was a very small, skinny lady with jet black hair and shiny eyes. She could see I was nervous and she was kind and tolerant towards me even though she was obviously extremely busy and rushed. I had an x-ray and this showed a hole in my wisdom tooth and the dentist told me she would need to extract the tooth. "But you're going to give me sedation, aren't you?" I enquired worryingly. No, she wasn't. I was informed that I would get a local anaesthetic and I would be awake throughout the procedure. I nearly passed out then and there. I had to lie back down in the dentists chair. I asked if I could go to hospital and get it taken out under general anaesthetic. She said she could refer me but it would take up to a year and it was easier for her to do it. Ok. She seemed pretty confident in her abilities. I asked how it would be done. What type of machine did they use and how long would it take? She laughed. "Theres no machine!" she chuckled. "Its me who pulls your tooth out!". I could feel the blood drain from my head and pool into my feet and I must have turned a funny colour as she got me a glass of water and told me it was a routine procedure and not to worry. I told her she was a very small woman and that I didn't think she was strong enough to pull out my back tooth. She seemed to take offence. "Its not down to strength" she quipped, "its technique". Good God.

So there you go. That's how I am starting my lovely new year. In the first week of January I am having my tooth pulled out medieval torture style. I am hoping this very painful, traumatic start to the year will be a one off and that the universe has decided I have to get all the nastiness that 2016 holds over with quickly in order to pave the way for carefree bliss in the coming months.

Ha! Yeah!  (And so it begins, again).