Lirae.co.uk

Recently, (or years ago. I forget.) the Government raised the age of being able to legally buy cigarettes from 16 to 18. This was done in the hopes that young people will find it more difficult to obtain cigarettes and thus, prevent them from smoking.

Not only did they raise the age of buying cigarettes, they raised the age to buy any nicotine containing products and smoking paraphernalia (lighters, cigarette papers, filtres / tips, etc).

Now that 16 / 17 year old who was quitting The Satan Sticks without putting themselves through the horror that is "cold turkey" can't...unless they talk their parent/s into buying their choice of Nicotine Replacement Therapy for them.
I'm sure that request will go down just as well as "Could you buy me some cigarettes, mum?"!

They [the Government] want us all to quit smoking. A few months ago, they were considering making it illegal to display cigarettes behind the counter of shops; the packets would be held under the counter.

They're all for England to stop smoking but don't seem to be helping.

The price of Nicotine Replacement Therapy products is disgusting. Britain, you really want to help your people to quit smoking? Lower the price. Remove the VAT from the NRT products and raise the VAT of cigarettes to something MUCH higher. How about almost £10 for a pack of ten (currently between £4 and £6, depending on your chosen brand)?

And, please God please, make it easier to get hold of NRT products. This is the best thing you could do! My chosen method of NRT is the Inhalator, which I can buy in a whole of three shops in Plymouth. None of which are near me.
And I'm running out.

Long story short:

• July 2005, my dentist bullies me into going to the hygienist
• About six weeks later: PAIN. LOTS AND LOTS OF PAIN
• Three days after the pain starts, I go to the dentist
• The dentist tells me off for not brushing my teeth for two days, I ask her what part of "SIGNIFICANT PAIN, I CAN'T EVEN SLEEP OR EAT, NEVER MIND BRUSH MY TEETH" does she not understand
• She prescribes me some drugs and tells me that it will get rid of the pain
• We find out that the drugs she prescribed me are anti-depressants
• First pill has no effect. Second pill has me up all night bawling my eyes out and wanting to die
• Mum screams obscenities down the phone to my doctor's receptionist. Secures an appointment
• Go doctor, mum comes in with me; I can't even speak anymore
• Mum tells doctor everything, doctor is pissed off about the anti-depressants and how they were "advertised" to me
• Told to go back to Demon Dentist and not leave until I get antibiotics
• Back to dentist next day, get antibiotics
• About two days later, I have finally had a few hours of sleep and some soup. AND I've managed to brush my teeth for the first time!
• Three checkups later, she tells me that my tooth is dead and that I have "another abscess" - this is the first time she mentions that I had an abscess
• In 2007, she arranges an appointment for her to perform a root canal on my dead tooth
• The first part is done but I have another abscess; will have to wait a month before the root canal can be finished
• She cancels the next appointment
• And the next. I give up.

A few weeks ago, I start feeling some sensitivity in the tooth. I worry about it for a few days, then get my mum to make an appointment. She tells me she's made it but I won't be seeing my normal dentist. I'm over the moon.

The appointment comes up and I've been thinking of ways to ask to have a new dentist; would the puppy dog eyes work best or will I have to make myself cry? Decisions, decisions!
Turns out I didn't need to ask for a new dentist; mine has already left. Thank you, God!

I get prescribed another course of antibiotics and am told to come back on August 12th. Which was this Tuesday.

I go in, expecting to get a checkup and have my new dentist arrange an appointment to finish the root canal. Imagine my surprise when he says "Let's finish this."!
It was during work time and I told them I would only be a little late. I can't even phone work and let them know I will be quite late. But oh well.

He drills through the dressing and tries to insert one of the screw-like things they use to get all infected crap out of the tooth but it hurts, so he gets out his general anesthetic injection. PANIC. NEEDLE! Will be IN MY MOUTH and I KNOW that hurts! I had to have five teeth removed before I could have braces, so I know the pain of these needles.

(Does anyone else find it weird that I'm scared of the tiny needle they use for those injections, when I've had at least nine piercings done with a needle? And piercing needles are a lot bigger and thicker than injection needles.)

While he's injecting me, I'm trying to make myself absorb into the chair; I'm completely rigid. He tells me to relax, I try to tell him I CAN'T. He understands.

Once the needle was finally out, he carried on using screw-like things to pull crap out of my tooth. I can't feel pain but can feel my poor tooth being beaten up.
He made the hole bigger and I felt it with my tongue while he was doing something else. The hole was almost as big as the back of the tooth.

He carried on with the screw-like things for a little while longer. I'm now worrying that he'll put his fingers through the floor of my mouth or he'll pull out the screw-thing and my tooth will come out with it.

He finally finishes with the screws and then starts to put stuff into my tooth, using tiny little needles. Not like an injection; he uses these tiny needles to get the gooey stuff into my tooth; a bit like a spoon, I guess.

He then puts a tiny metal pin into my tooth and gently knocks it in using his finger. He chops off the end and uses the sucker thing to suck out the end, which is now in my mouth. He does the same thing again.

Then he puts tooth-cement onto my tooth and closes up the hole.

I'm finally allowed to leave!

I now have little pins in my tooth, to hold the tooth down; like a root would, if I still had one.

It sucks that this is my first ever filling, it's a Big Filling and it was caused by my previous dentist.

I want to knock her teeth out.

Since getting this new job, I've had to start getting used to stuff. Stuff like not having much free time and not having enough time to actually get enough sleep.

There are also other things.

I think, before I started this job, I used the phone um...twice in the previous four years? I hate the machine. I had a full-blown phobia over the damn thing and would be close to tears if someone so much as mentioned that maybe I should think about possibly using it.
When I first started my new job, I refused to pick up the phone when it rang. My new workmates would tell me that I'll have to do it eventually and that I'll get used to it.

Then they left me alone with it one afternoon and it rang. I was the only one there to pick it up. I answered it and was on it for a whole...two minutes? By the time I got off, I was sweating, shaking and damn near tears.

Almost three months on, I can answer my work phone. I've Sucked It Up and gotten used to it. I still hate it and still panic over having to make a call but I can use the phone.

I still can't leave an answer phone message but I'll get there some day.