Stone Age dentists

I am finally up. I've survived one night of dental mortification. Nurofen is a knockout, because it does just that... it knocks me out. These tiny white pills always do the trick. Of course they should be taken in two's, without alcohol. I've disobeyed all of that. I hope no doctor reads this or I might just be reported to the Medical Council, but then again the Medical Council can kiss my Achilles heel, perhaps they don't know what it's like. Plenty of doctors are curing or attempting to cure conditions which they themselves have not harboured. And I guess dentists are one of their kind. I don't hate dentists of course, it has always taken one of their kind to restore me blissful painless happiness. But I do wonder what it would have been like for me in the Stone age. I would probably have died a very young death out of blood poisoning. So it seems I am on borrowed time. It seems like that for a hell of a lot of things. I defy death, but then it's perhaps because I have no fear of it. When you actually stare at death in the face, you kind of get used to it? I don't know, I'm not waiting for death in the post, but when it comes I'll do it gracefully. Nobody gets out alive here. I'll probably be buried with really nice looking teeth too, there is no tell-tale sign to reveal the woes I've had to endure. Perhaps I won't have wrinkles if keep to my father's side of the genetic cycle. And then again, perhaps I will have. Oh God, this is getting so confusing, and all because of toothache, I'm having a break.