Yes, that moment when I am almost completely silent.
When I have to have an injection and feel my mouth and lips swell which gives me the appearance of a stroke sufferer.
When I know that it will be a couple of hours before I can actually hold a drink to my lips without slobbering it down my chin or having to tilt my head on a side to try and retain some of the fluid in my mouth.
When I have the assistant holding the sucker almost down my throat.
When I have a bite block to help me keep my mouth open so I don’t bite off the Dentists hand.
When I have the Dentist drilling and spraying my back tooth like there’s no tomorrow.
When I have to breathe through my nose slowly, or even raise my legs one at a time so I don’t gag and vomit whilst having a mould shoved in my mouth.
When I have the bib unceremoniously wiped across my face to mop it down from water spray that you swore is emitted from a fire hose.
When even the glasses they get you to wear require windscreen wipers.
When they tell you “We are going to use the noisy one now” – which in layman’s terms is the burr drill that makes your whole body feel it is being racked by a jack-hammer from the insides.
When they say “You can rinse now” and you are lucky that your spit actually hits the bowl of circling water and doesn’t spray their floor or shoes.
When throughout the ordeal they ask “How was your day” or “How are the girls”?
The only answer is “urgh”..
**My Memoir The Empty Nest A Mother’s Hidden Grief is now available on Amazon and Lulu (J M Kadane)**