Light At The End Of The Tunnel

My last memories of living in Mexico City? The photo below says it all. Bright lights and pain. Before I go back to rip-off Britain, I’m getting my dental work up to date. I’m typically British as far as having a sweet tooth is concerned. I have a bit of work to be done. It’s cheap here in Mexico, and there are some excellent dentists to be found. But it’s always worth asking around to see if there is a particularly good one that friends or family can recommend. The dentist you find round the corner might be fully qualified, but you want to make sure he’s a fully qualified dentist and not a fully qualified car mechanic who thought he’d try his hand at something new.

The Dentist


7 thoughts on “Light At The End Of The Tunnel

  1. Dan in NC says:

    Gary, of all the images that you could have taken, this one has the most visceral impact! To even sit in the position you took this from – I have to down 15-20 mg valium, and be sucking down NiOx like a scuba diver!
    I’m with John C – I’d rather spend a night in the Bates Motel than sit 5 seconds on that couch! (and yes I do have choppers now)!
    At least you won’t have to see the Nat’l health butchers I went to in the UK! SMART MOVE on your part!


    • I had my fourth appointment this morning. The sound of the drill is still reverberating around my skull. Twas a little more painful this morning….I chose not to have an anaesthetic. Just some minor work – get it over with a little quicker.

      I’m sure the dentist thought I was a little nuts when I asked if I could take the photo. But I’d been staring at it for so long over the last couple of days, I became sure I could see a shot there!

      I’m not convinced that NHS dentists really exist any more, even though there are claims to the contrary!


  2. As a related add-on to the story, what there is of a story, anyway….

    Many years ago, nearly 20 I should think, I rented a flat above a shop on London Underground property. So…old buildings. After about a year, loud, thumping, crashing noises started up in the attic at night. The initial assumption that it was the late mother of an ex-gf come to haunt me proved false. Rats.

    Not ‘rats’ as in, what a shame it wasn’t the late mother. Rats as in the long tailed, plague carrying beasties. I called in the appropriate people, who duly arrived with poison and instructions. I learned a lot about rats.

    They can chew their way through almost anything. Even concrete isn’t a certain defence. As a result, one of the most common caused of death for city dwelling rats, is starvation. They chew their teeth away in the end, and once their gnashers are gone, they’re doomed.

    I feel pity for those rats right now. At the moment, anything more solid than a cream soup or porridge is just too painful to chew through. I might have a go at some French Toast later


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