
Well there we are. A week's course of antibiotics and a recommendation from the dentist to have the tooth pulled, which I shall arrange to do during the week we are having off to move out of the Athenaeum Club. Ironically, since dragging myself out of bed at about 4am today for painkillers, it hasn't hurt even slightly, even before the trip to the dentists. I found that by biting down, it hurt horribly for a moment or two, died down to a dull throb and then stopped. I think the slightly loose tooth must have gone properly back into place and is now temporarily OK.
Typical.
I had been toying with getting a crown put on it once the current infection is cleared, but short of saying no, the dentist pretty much made my decision by quoting ever more expensive possibilities. Originally I was under the impression that to go NHS it would cost just under £200 all-in, or a little over £400 for private, the latter meaning using more specialized equipment and ending up with a natural-looking tooth rather than soviet industrial waste as per the NHS.
Not so: I have 'thin roots' - I knew some part of me had to be thin; I had hoped it might be my dainty ankles - so that requires a specialist in central London. That's £600 for the root work, then. Then the £400 for the crown comes in and it may all drop out of my head anyway. Clearly her kids have hinted that they don't want to go to college, so she doesn't feel the need to empty my bank account into hers, so she pretty much reckons that just losing the tooth is the best idea.
That then, is my plan. I already have a gap on the upper jaw in that place, so now I shall have one on the lower jaw, too. Happily it is all too far back to ruin my enchanting smile, but I fear that I shall make noises like someone blowing over an empty beer bottle when the wind is in the east.