Toothache – there is nothing quite like a particularly bad one to ruin your day.
Anyone of a certain age in the UK will remember the questionable dental care we received as children in the 50s and 60s – it was bad, very bad.
At least, it was in my world.
Trips to the dentist were feared more than the bogey men hanging in the shadows of night. Seriously – dental practices in the 50s and 60s were torture chambers.
We went in for check ups and came out with toothache.
As our baby teeth fell out and were swapped for money during the night by some mythical creature that apparently had access to our bedrooms, our beautiful new teeth grew in.
But lurking in the background was that horrible man with his drill waiting to hack massive holes in them for no good reason.
Well, I say no good reason but I am sure there was a very good reason and I suspect it was money.
I had a double whammy of horrible men waving drills around; my mother took me to her dentist regularly and I was also attacked by the school dentist every year.
Toothache was something you did not admit to until it got to the point where you were hallucinating. No child in their right mind wanted an extra trip to ‘that place’.Toothache in 60s Britain was something you did not admit to until you were hallucinating from pain. Click To Tweet
The debate about the use of mercury in dental ‘care’ may continue but I made up my mind where I stood, a very long time ago.
Why would I want the most deadly heavy metal known to man, stuffed into my teeth sitting inches from my brain?
Well, the answer is I don’t – I just don’t.
No point in arguing with me, I had it all removed and my health gradually improved beyond my wildest dreams.
So do not come near me with that stuff or it will end up where the sun don’t shine. I mean it.
I am sure there will be some ‘expert’ somewhere ready to tell me different, but I do not believe it was necessary to drill out an entire tooth and pack it with amalgam when a teeny spot of decay was found.
However that is what they did in the 50s and 60s and possibly the 70s.
All my British friends of my age had heads full of huge fillings from around age seven.
The results for the general health of several generations have been appalling – but that is another post.
So anyway, I still have a thing about going to the dentist.
Even though mine is brilliant and funny and gentle, I still see him as a psychotic killer.
Intellectually I know it’s all hunky dory.
High speed drills, laser drills, headphones playing sweet music, pretty pictures on the ceiling, comfy laid back chairs etc.
But hey, I know you are messing around in my mouth doing stuff that I can’t see and at some point it’s gonna HURT!
No? Ok, tell you what, how about I hold your testicles while you work? They are close enough.
I’ll do a deal, you don’t hurt me and I won’t hurt you – Ok?
My poor relationship with dentistry went on for years.
I only went when I had a toothache so severe, it clouded my better judgement. By the time I wised up and realised regular checks were essential for overall physical health, the groundwork had been laid down for problems in later life – the very place I have just rocked up to.So Mr. dentist - it won't hurt eh? How about I hold your testicles just to make sure? Click To Tweet
Lately, I have been plagued with toothache in a large lower molar and my dentist has referred me to the hospital.
With the current state of the health-care system in the UK, it is very likely that my teeth will be wafting out of the crematorium chimney in altered form before the hospital dentist claps eyes on them.Even though my dentist is brilliant and funny and gentle, I still see him as a psychotic killer. Click To Tweet
The good news is, as long as I don’t eat, the tooth is fine.
The bad news is, I do eat.
I try to eat on the other side but since the corresponding molar was removed many years ago, it’s not the best experience.
So I have toothache a lot.
And it makes me cry with pain.
After trying everything from clove oil to TCP, hydrogen peroxide and xylitol gum, I was beaten and miserable because nothing worked.
Two days ago, I had one of those celestial emails, you know the kind, they just drop into your head from nowhere.
Cabbage leaves. I suddenly remembered spending my ‘new mummy’ days with cabbage leaves hugging my very painful breasts while my babies and I settled into feeding.
It worked, it truly worked. And so I wondered, would it work for teeth?
A quick trip round Google kicked up search results that said yes, cabbage juice can alleviate toothache.
So I took a lovely juicy leave, bruised it a little, rolled it up and shoved in between my cheek and gum.
I bit down on it slightly to crack the veins and I sucked out the juice. OMG!
I could not believe the results!
It has now been 48 hours and I am keeping the pain so under control that I barely know there is a problem.
It does mean that I walk around all day looking like a lopsided hamster who has eaten half his winter stash but I am pain-free!
If you have toothache – try the cabbage leaf remedy – it has worked wonders for me and I swear I was on the verge of another infection on Monday.
I had a fever and felt really ill until I began to suck on that leaf and keep it snug against the affected tooth.
Everything I have read tells me that cabbage is an excellent detoxifier and powerful healer.
I always knew I should not have let that emergency dentist do a root canal late one Saturday night when I lived abroad. There was a faint smell of whisky in the air when he leaned over me but I didn’t have the courage to leap out of the chair and insist on a breathalyzer test.
That was probably my worst nightmare, not only was he a dentist but he was a pissed dentist. And now, all I have between me and the toothache is a fridge full of cabbages. Better than taking pills I guess.
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