we dyscordians must stick apart

20100328

Horror Story: Pt. 2 - The Hospital

Originally posted 8/29/07

Previously on Horror Story....


You witnessed an innocent young man suffering demented dental debauchery at the hands of a deranged dentin doctor called David before making a narrow escape from the dingy denture dungeon of doom.

Will our young hero escape the pain of his three remaining wisdom teeth? Will anyone believe his terrifying tale of traumatic tooth treatment? Will he ever stop his agonizing alliterating authoring activities?

Find out the answers to these questions and more in today's Horror Story: Pt. 2 - The Hospital.


After another night of the sort of pain that makes you bang your head against the wall I managed to get myself bumped to the front of the line for day surgery to get the three remaining teeth removed at the hospital where I was working at the time. Yep, it helps to know a private dental practitioner who knows the Chief Tooth Fairy at your place of employment.

Two days later I was lying in pre-op surrounded by people wearing scrubs relieved that my ordeal would soon be over. The operating theatre staff joked around and gossiped as the young Indian anestesthithist...anasthethisitht...the guy with the dope hooked me up to the anesthetic. Soon I would be free from pain.

"Start counting backwards from ten," he said in a low, soothing voice.

"Ten, nine, eight..." I started to feel woozy, my eyelids drooping slowly.

"...thev'n..."

At the very moment I was about to drift into unconsciousness, the same guy suddenly got right in my face. He was all wide-eyed and smiling an evil smile.

The last thing I heard as I went under was "We're not really doctors you know..."

===============================================================

Eyes suddenly so wide open they almost popped out of my head I sat bolt upright inhaling so long and so hard I came close to sucking the covers off of the opposite bed. I gasped for breath and patted myself down just to make sure I was all there.

"Legs?"

"Check."

"Body?"

"Check."

"Head?"

"Check."

"Arms?"

"What are you patting yourself down with stupid?"

"Oh yes."

Looking around the spinning wobbly ward I noticed a nurse rushing towards me."

"Are you alright sir?"

"B, b, b, b, b, b..."

"Don't worry, you're just feeling the effects of the anesthetic wearing off."

"Th, th, th, ddddddd..."

Pushing me back now, "You'll be fine soon, just rest for now."

I allowed her to push me back onto the bed and I drifted for what must have been another hour or two before the same nurse, all businesslike now, shook me awake. "Alright sir, time to go."

The world was still wobbly. "Huh?"

"It's Friday. This ward closes for the weekend at five o'clock. You have to go home now."

"Oh."

I dressed unsteadily, wondering vaguely why my face felt like it was the size of a melon, and weaved my way to the exit wishing it would stay still long enough for me to get through it. Outside I paused to get my bearings before lurching off towards the nearest bus stop.

This may be a surprise to you but it isn't easy to speak with a mouth full of gauze and cotton wool, as I was about to find.

A bus approached, winding it's way up the curvy road. OK, the road was straight, everything I looked at just looked curvy. The bus stopped. The doors opened. I fell up the steps.

Dragging myself up I pulled out my wallet and said "Wawwow Widge Mwease."

"You what?" asked the driver, looking a little confused. I'm pretty sure he thought I was shit-faced.

"Wawwow Widge," I repeated and offered him some money.

He continued to look at me, saying nothing.

Exasperated I pointed at my jaw and told him, "Aah wus wad um weeth aah."

"Ah," he said, realizing my predicament. "This bus goes to Horwich, I can take you there."

"Wowich?!" I shook my head, raised my hand and turned to stagger sideways off the bus.

Long story short, I hailed a cab and pretended I was dumb (shut up Ali) so the driver gave me a pen and paper to write down my destination. I made it home and sank back into my favorite chair vowing never to trust dentists or surgeons again for as long as I lived before drifting off into a sweet, painless, twelve hour nap.

I still don't trust the bastards.

14 comments:

Alice Amplified said...

God. I laughed so hard at you trying to make words with your mouth full of gauze. Coke totally came out my nose.

Wawwow Widge Mwease.....

Phew.

p.s. I think your ana..anatheis..night-night doctor would prefer to called Middle Eastern these days!

val said...

Oh, Heather (have I remembered right?) please don't say the US has acquired another piece of pointless political correctness! Over here Indian is just fine (as long ass the guy isn't Pakistani or Bangladeshi). I believe you say Asian when you mean Chinese (and Japanese?) but in the UK it means all 3 races mentioned above.

Anyway, Michael, brave little soldier, at least you have no more wisdom teeth left to have extracted. Life should improve now.

Alice Amplified said...

Yes Val... I'm afraid we have. It's gotten so bad, and my state (California) is really the worst about it all.

I really have a hard time keeping up with what I can and cannot say.....

Ali said...

Michael ~ Excellently told.. had me in stitches!!!

Your E.S.P. is working overtime though matey, you told me to shut up even before I had begun to thunk it!!!!

Michael said...

Comment edit :)

Heather - I'm guessing I owe you a new keyboard.

The guy was from India, he's an Indian. I'm from England, I'm English, not an Anglo-Saxon male. I call a spade a spade.

Ali - what can I tell you of psychic powers when you know people so well from what they type? You got me figured out early anyways.

Val - don't patronize me. Life never improves and you know it as well as I do :(

val said...

Patronize you Michael? Silly boy, I wouldn't do that!

Michael said...

Nice one Val, that gave me a chuckle.

Pauline said...

Michael, you can't say spade, they prefer to be called 'digging implements'

When are you going to tell your readers abou the time you had the rest of your teeth out and had your lovely false gnashers fitted?

Pauline said...

'about' even!

Michael said...

They are't false gnashers. They prefer to be called artificial munching appliances.

ann said...

it's taken me a while to read
this, since I'm just recovering
from an abcess and had a root
canal last week that left me
in a right mess... today the
pain has gone, until I go visit
the butcher next week

wisdom teeth should be done away
with evolutionary speaking; who
needs them other than dentists
who make a killing

I swear I've paid for most of
my dentist's holidays

have a great weekend

lotsa luv ann xxxxx

Michael said...

Ann - after your trials and tribulations reading this must have been so much fun. Timing is everything they say.

I'll check with you next time I'm going to post another medical horror story. Don't want to bring back bad memories :)

Have a great weekend yourself.

cathy said...

You're such a wuzzy!
I was straight in the pub after they pulled my wisdom teeth...remember?

Michael said...

I sure do remember it. Do you or were you just told about it later?