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  • August 2022
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Getting down to your roots?

Late on Saturday evening my Giant Rat started complaining about excruciating toothache each time he had something cold to drink or eat (not that it prevented him from ploughing his way through a bowl of ice-cream!) The pain had subsided to a constant dull throb on Sunday, so yesterday morning I insisted that he shoot off to our dentist.

After getting the trembling bottom lip from him, I promised to accompany him and figuratively hold his hand (whilst he was in the chair of doom and gloom, and I was standing safely outside the practice watching the world go by). I checked the fine print on our marriage certificate, and nowhere does it state in black and white that I have to accompany him into the actual surgery and be there whilst injections are being given or drilling for diamonds is taking place. So I figured I would be rather safe going with him.

I must point out here that we have the most brilliant dentist, who not only takes the time to explain step-by-step (and sometimes in far too much gory detail) the actual procedure, but he is also incredibly gentle. Virtually every person we know with rugrats goes to him as the kids are not scared at all to have him inject or work on their teeth. He’s the first dentist that I have been injected by and I have not felt the injection (even if I do scrunch my eyes closed while digging my claws into the leather padding on the armrests of his chair!) My only wish is for him to move his practice to a better area as he’s situated in an industrial area which is not the best to be in; but at the end of the day, his care more than makes up for the weird and slightly bizarre specimens I’ve encountered there!

Anyhoo, we eventually arrived at 08h00 after having to park miles away and made our way inside where we waited until hubby could be treated as a ‘walk-in’. Eventually he was called through, and after some time, came back out into the waiting room to tell me he had been given two injections and was going to have a root canal done. EEK! A filling that he had done whilst away in Richards Bay had partially come off and he had developed an abscess, leading to this damage.

Oi vey! The man had no sooner gone back into the surgery when he came out again telling me that Dr J insisted I come through and wait in the surgery for moral support. I steeled my spine, and walked through with him to be greeted by Dr J like a long lost pal before being given access to his computer and the information on root canal procedures and various other hideous conditions. And that was something I really didn’t need to see.

Mind you, watching the whole procedure unfold before my eyes was rather interesting (especially when you’re not on the receiving end of it *grin*). From removing the rest of the filling, drilling down into and removing the nerves which were poisoned from the abcess, injecting anti-biotics with the strangest miniature needle-thingy (similar to an acupuncture needle with a squishy thing on the one end) and eventually placing a white temporary filling on the tooth again until hubby has his return appointment in January was quite fascinating.

Fascinating and interesting, but not a profession I could be in. The sound of the drill and the suction thingymabobby is enough to make my skin crawl, never mind the whole ‘hospital’ antiseptic smell which makes me gag.

And did my Giant Rat get his prescription for pain killers and anti-biotics filled? Nope.

And, more importantly, where did we go after we left the surgery?

To the closest mall so my Giant Rat could refuel his empty stomach. Numbed mouth and all!

Wanted – some help!

A really good sanatorium to book my Giant Rat into.

When he arrived for his weekend home on Friday evening, I was spoilt with a new terabyte external drive as well as a 2.5 350gig external drive to replace (as he said) my one flash drive. There’s nothing wrong with the flash drive, but it’s one of those daft ones that you have to use the little slider thingy on the side to push out the usb doodat before you can plug it into an usb drive.

Two really wonderful gifts, and he also bought us a new router as ours had a couple of ports which had blown so we’ve been using a switch to enable both of us to connect to the net at the same time.

But…. (and yeah, I know I shouldn’t start a sentence with but…), that’s not why he needs a sanatorium.

If you remember some time back, we were sitting at the Mugg & Preen in Pinetown when he excused himself to go to the loo and instead dashed into our favourite geek paradise, PC Zone, and returned to the table with a 24inch Samsung monitor for me?

Well, on Monday evening he called to tell me he has sent me a ‘little something’ via Postnet, and it would be arriving on Thursday, and batteries were included. Ummmm…okay… (and please, remove your little minds from the gutter, there’s only enough space there for mine!)

Anyhoo, on Tuesday morning just after 09h00 I received a sms from Postnet confirming that my ‘package’ had arrived. (Brilliant service, that).

Big Sweetie offered to take me through on the way home to collect my ‘package’, and while I was infinitely grateful for his generosity, I must admit I held fingers and toes crossed all the way there that whatever it was had been wrapped in a plain brown wrapper. And also that Big Sweetie didn’t insist on my opening my ‘package’.

With great trepidation I entered the store and gave the chap (gulp!) my name and ID book over the counter and acknowledged receipt as he drew my package out from their storeroom.

With much looking up at the ceiling (it’s a very interesting one) and looking everywhere else but at him, I was startled to hear him tell me he would carry it out and to the car as he didn’t think I would manage…

“Oh dear Lord, let a hole open up in the shop and swallow me now!”

Then I stood on tiptoes to peer over the counter, and saw…

My new computer monitor!

Time is fleeting…

…and so another weekend with my Giant Rat at home has ended, and it is time for me to face the tall world from a short perspective again! Oh well, no good complaining; after all, that’s why ladders were invented 🙂

If you want a good giggle, copy and paste some of your blog posts/poems/short stories into this site (http://iwl.me/). The site, “I write like”, supposedly analyses ones writing in terms of seeing which author one has a similar style to.

I analysed a few things I have written, and had the biggest laugh when the short story challenge Sidey had posed some time back (using the first and last sentence from two different books as the opening and closing sentence) gave me the result of Ursula K Le Guin (a fantasy/science fiction author). That was after I pasted the entire post (with the exception of the two sentences hijacked from the books I was reading at the time. Considering I had written about two detectives investigating a serial killer, I expected to see a crime writer’s name!

Provided one doesn’t take these things seriously, the site is really good for a giggle if nothing more, especially after analysing Supa’s Coq Au Vin post and it spat out Ian Fleming!

Have a great day all; I’m off to make yet another jug of java and contemplate my wardrobe for the office whilst warming my cold bones in a tub of hot water.

Just a bit cracked, I am

I was reading Lime’s post (a blogger who is part of the Letterdash community) yesterday morning about pain and broken ribs, and I can certainly relate to that feeling of excruciating pain each time you take a breath, never mind the agony of trying to dress.

And how did I end up with a couple of cracked ribs, I hear you ask?

That’s the easy part.

My Giant Rat gave them to me.

Picture the scene:

We were young and stupid (as opposed to being older and still stupid!)

My Giant Rat and I had this little ‘thing’ where I would run and jump up, with him catching me as I clung to him like a monkey with my arms and legs wrapped around his torso. Which, considering the great difference in our size and height, was a whole lot of fun to do especially as we would first snuggle before making him carry me too.

Anyhoo, one memorable Saturday evening we set off to the movies with a good friend of ours. I don’t know how many of the Durban bloggers remember the Nu Metro cinema complex at the BP Centre in West Street, but it was a great venue, complete with a bar where one could have a drink before going to settle down to watch a movie. For the life of me I cannot recall which movie the three of us had gone to watch, but I do remember us having a couple of drinks first. I’m sure it must have been some or other action movie which probably put one of the most daft ideas into my noggin…

The cinema itself was huge, with a central horizontal passage separating the upper and lower seating areas, and two vertical aisles separating the blocks of seats. Naturally we were seated right at the back (as I hate seeing a movie before anyone else *grin*), and after the movie ended we waited for everyone to vacate their seats and make their way down all the stairs.

And then my brainwave struck! And more’s the pity it didn’t just knock me out there and then, but I digress.

I merrily went skipping down all the stairs to the central horizontal passage, and turning to face my Giant Rat and our friend G, I shouted to hubby to run and jump and I would catch him! Oi vey! I must have left my sign at home that day.

Well, he ran and jumped. I tried my utmost to catch him, but you do the math. One short-arsed 4ft11 midget who was also horribly underweight at the time trying to catch a strappingly robust and healthy 6ftplus giant who had come hurtling down heaven knows how many stairs at a speed.

You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to know how it turned out! The minute I was struck by the giant projectile we both went tumbling down the lower stairs until we came to a complete halt with me on the ground below my Rat. I remember having all the stuffing knocked out of me along with my breath, and even after the great weight had lifted I still lay there stunned before I was eventually able to get up with the help of my Rat and G.

Strangely enough, I was able to jump up on the back of the bike and still head off to the beachfront for our usual habit of ending off the evening with coffee. I felt like a bus had run over me in the early hours of Sunday morning, but put it down to being really badly bruised which I was. It was only when I got the most horrendous agonising pains trying to breathe that I suspected I had something more serious than severe bruising, and toodling off to my GP on the Monday morning (and I might add, walking like I had sat on a rather large carrot), I was sent for x-rays which confirmed his initial diagnosis that I had cracked a couple of ribs.

Hehehe, luckily (for me) my GP knew me very well so instead of giving me a lecture, he simply taped me up and gave me a script for pain killers whilst peering at me over the rims of his specs and shaking his head. A wise man he was 🙂