Punctured at both ends
I broke a tooth on an olive stone on Wednesday night. It had been twinging for a couple of weeks, and no doubt would have gone sooner or later, but it was annoying none the less. Found a dentist round the corner from the office yesterday, and got them to have a look at it. They shook their heads sadly and said it was basically unsalvageable and will need a full crown, as its counterpart on the other side had two years ago. They also said I would need my remaining two wisdom teeth whipped out in due course, which again came as little surprise but was not particularly good news. They ground the fragmented tooth back to the point where I can at least eat without pain, and I go back next week to get the full job done.
And first thing this morning I went into Leuven hospital for the snip. I made this particular decision as soon as we realised that U had a serious disability, like her older sister; there's obviously something genetic going on, and it therefore seems sensible to call a halt to my begetting. But it took me quite a long time to move from taking the decision in principle to acting on it - it is the most major surgery I have ever had (indeed, barring dental work and an ingrowing toenail, the only surgery I've ever had), and one doesn't really rush to have one's delicate parts messed around with, especially if there is no pressing medical reason for it. Anyway, three years on, I finally made the arrangements for this week; the hospital, a Catholic institution, amusingly asked for Anne's signature as well as mine on the consent form. The procedure itself is not especially pleasant, but fairly brief, and I have been lying in bed rather uncomfortably all day, watching old Doctor Who series on the laptop. So, that's a sore end to the week. But it will get me out of too much heavy lifting when I move offices on Monday.
And first thing this morning I went into Leuven hospital for the snip. I made this particular decision as soon as we realised that U had a serious disability, like her older sister; there's obviously something genetic going on, and it therefore seems sensible to call a halt to my begetting. But it took me quite a long time to move from taking the decision in principle to acting on it - it is the most major surgery I have ever had (indeed, barring dental work and an ingrowing toenail, the only surgery I've ever had), and one doesn't really rush to have one's delicate parts messed around with, especially if there is no pressing medical reason for it. Anyway, three years on, I finally made the arrangements for this week; the hospital, a Catholic institution, amusingly asked for Anne's signature as well as mine on the consent form. The procedure itself is not especially pleasant, but fairly brief, and I have been lying in bed rather uncomfortably all day, watching old Doctor Who series on the laptop. So, that's a sore end to the week. But it will get me out of too much heavy lifting when I move offices on Monday.