A tale of a tooth

Now that the poorly old tooth I have been stubbornly trying to save for the last couple of years has bitten (sorry) the dust, how clear it has become to me that I should have given up long ago. I was ingesting too much paracetamol for too long, and insisting that it was a perfectly reasonable objective to hang on to the beast for another ten years or so.

Good old hindsight. And well done dentist for being more patient than his patient.

Not only I am free of pain and paracetamol, I think my brain is waking up; slowly.

I can now plan things without forgetting what the first thing was I started from and where I put the list when the plan was completed.

I’ve caught up with the filing! (Mostly)

I can read more and faster and better.

But I can’t seem to write yet. Or promote what I’ve written. It looks as if energy levels need to be much higher for these creative works to restart.

Do the nerves from your back teeth have some sort of hotline to the writing areas of the brain?

Am plodding on with swimming, gardening, cat care, reading, organising family history files and such, waiting for something at the back of my mind to say; ‘this is what happens in the next paragraph, and then that will happen and……..’



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