You don't have to be afraid anymore

So I went to the doctors and got told more about my athlete's foot, which isn't actually athlete's foot. He says although my foot is making a recovery it's still not as well as it should be. Years of agressive stratching and neglect mean it will be forever scarred. It's also very prone to infection. He prescribed more anti-biotics and steroid creme. What amazes me is that I sat in his office and totally forgot to mention that I'm getting a sharp pain in my left hand side every now and then at the moment.

Could it be down to my anti-biotics? Perhaps it's triggered something with my apendix and I'll wake up tonight in agony crippled with pain unable to do anything about the situation. Then it'll burst and fill my body with toxic chemicals and people will later point to this entry and go "aahhh". He knew he was going to die. The irony.

This is my problem. I self-diagnose via ignorance and paranoia. The end result is that my vivd imagination serves up an unlikely but detailed worst case scenario. What I should of course really do is ask the expert. But I forget. Or even worse I become too scared to sort the problem out.

My front bottom teeth are bunched up and mongy. They always have been. I think most people of my generation suffer from the too many teeth syndrome. Well my front teeth, like most people's, fell foul of the shi#tty build-up of sediment that you get. There was loads of it. Rather than listening to my friends who all said - "you just need a scrape Nick" I became convinced that they were soon to fall out. They'd bunched together and melded into one instable super-tooth and as soon as any sane dentist saw them he'd be sure to remove them all and put in some falsies.

False teeth at the age of 23 (my age then, not now)! The injustice. I therefore decided not to go to see a dentist, ever again. Just keep on trucking and deal with it when they fell out.

Then I cracked and swallowed one of my back teeth*. This forced me to the dentist. While he was taking a look I cowered in the seat.

'Any minute now he'll notice my instable supertooth at the bottom front, he'll want to put in falsies, bas#ard!'.

'Oh, you're teeth need a bit of a scrape there now don't they?'

Off came all the crap. Brand new teeth. Great. What was I worrying about? There really is nothing to worry about. Even though I'm sure there is. I hate dentists. Yuk.


*Fu#king hurt like a bastard I can tell you. However it eventually came out the other end. That was of course even more painful. On the positive though it makes me better than you in that I've managed to bite my own ars#.


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