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A Marathon Man Day in the Restorative Dentist’s Chair

Today was stage one of what can only be described as a marathon-man-esque in the restorative dentist’s chair #Dustin Hoffman — two solid hours of unpicking old root canals, recalibrating my bite, and generally undoing years of dental history. Absolutely dreadful but such is my 3 year treatment plan I’ve somehow managed to zone out. Visualise. Even snooze. Hopefully I didn’t snore.

Meanwhile, the sinusitis saga continues. Still no antibiotics. The clinic letter from BARTS has apparently been sent to my GP… but, as ever, nothing happens. The MDT for the MRI? Dipsticks plan for 2025 and still radio silence. My nephrologist’s concerns about my blood pressure ? haven’t sparked any action either. And the broken foot? Still broken. #Groundhog Day.

But —

Because while I’m tearing my hair out about specialists, my incredible friend Paddy Magee is out there about to start rowing the Atlantic. Bonkers but brave. The fundraising dinner was nothing short of epic, full of energy and purpose. I still can’t wrap my head around the idea of sleeping in two-hour bursts, in a space barely big enough to turn around in, while the ocean heaves beneath you. Claustrophobia meets endurance meets sheer human grit.

There’s so much more to say about that adventure — and I will — but for now, I’m ending the day with a jaw that feels like it’s been in a boxing match, a foot that refuses to heal, and a strange mix of frustration and awe. Because even when my own body feels like it’s stuck in limbo, someone I care about is out there proving what’s possible.

More on Paddy’s Atlantic odyssey soon.

Meanwhile Guardian journalist has picked up the story of rationing of products. Too late for my mum and dad but maybe just maybe others will be better served. #DieWithmy-dry-pants on.

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