Having a staring role in a body horror

Last Wednesday morning I went in to the dentist expecting a fairly straight forward extraction.

This was a wrong assumption.

I was presented with an informed consent form explaining about the grafting material of bone extracted from donor corpses - I was supposed to have left with a copy of the information, but didn't, thus I was expecting to have it written down.

The first root of the tooth popped out easily, the second took a very long time.  It kept fracturing, and was hooked into the bone more than expected.  It was slow and brutal.  Having to slice my gums away with a scalpel to get access.

And when it was done I stupid thought the worse was over.  I hadn't realised how much they would be going into my jaw.  I had a bunch of fully encapsulated cysts under the tooth inside my jaw.  Once I was shown the huge back shadow they had cast on my x-ray I was left wondering how my jaw hadn't broken considering how little jaw was left.

So I had a dent postgrad levering inside with various tools before pulling out freaky squishy things like alien or insect eggs from my jaw with, what I learned were called, pathology forceps (fat handled tweezers with very fine tips).

Then cleaning, and the slow packing in of the grafting material.  The membrane placement, and my sliced gums being stitched as flaps over the membrane to hold it in place.  As the undergrad dent student who had been observing was sent to get more suture thread multiple times, and the dentist started to lose patience that exhaustion was making it hard for me to keep my mouth fully open at the end of what turn out to be very nearly a three and a half hour process.

Sure I had been numbed up a lot, but my jaw hurt and I was getting pretty exhausted and was starting to feel pretty unwell.

It was not a fun time.

And I failed to get a bunch of the information I was supposed to get before I left.

I forgot to get the tooth they had extracted, so I guess it got binned.

I got back to catsitting and the cat was very happy as I mostly just dozed in the lazyboy, which is his favourite chair for sitting on people.  For days.

And the bleeding and then salty oozing in my mouth reduced my appetite enough I have lost another kilo.  Down to 116kg - which I realise seems like a giant number to normal sized people but it a lot less than it used to be.  I don't even know when I last weighed this 'little'.

Also, why does losing weight depress me even more than gaining?  The mental health minefield of internalised fatphobia...

Anyway, now I just need to not burn down Si's house for four more days.  More like three and half really.