You know, I think my dentist takes a sadistic delight in extracting molars!
I could see the look of enjoyment in his face when I made the decision to have the tooth taken out, rather than a root filling that he said would probably be even more painful than the misery I have endured for three days.
As he plunged the hypodermic needle into my gums, his face, on which he seems to have grown some 'designer stubble', contorted in a look bordering on madness, that was nothing compared to the extreme pleasure he exuded as I writhed in the chair as he tried to lever out the offending grinder.
It was even more disconcerting, because there was complete silence as he probed and delved, using my lower jaw as a fulcrum on which to get maximum leverage, the stillness unusual because like all dentists I've known, you are expected to carry on a well structured, considered conversation with them while your mouth is wide open and stuffed with implements of all sorts.
He finally dug out the last bit of tooth and there it lay in bits on a tissue next to me and while on the one hand delighting in it's removal, I also felt a pang of sadness, remembering the 63 years or so (allowing for milk teeth!) that we'd dined together!
As I sit here writing this drivel, the sun is shining, there is a fresh wind blowing and it is 18 degrees. Could I, dare I, venture out in that little car or would that be a little silly after my terrible ordeal. You know I think I might have to yield to common sense.....unusual for me!