A routine morning of simple procedures followed by an entire afternoon with Jenny. It would have been easier under a general, but Jenny is old and frail, and the risks outweighed the advantages. Instead I have fitted nine titanium implants under local anaesthetic and a mild sedative. ‘Are you sure there isn’t someone who can come and collect you, Jenny?’ It’s been four hours of hard work for me, but it’s been a lot tougher on Jenny. Her mouth is going to hurt like she’s been kicked by tomorrow morning, but for the time being she is still numb with lignocaine. Nevertheless, her hands are trembling and she’s been through quite an ordeal. Despite this, and despite the crudeness of her temporary crowns, her smile is transformed. ‘Everyone busy,’ she repeats. ‘I fine. Taxi fine.’ ‘Well, let’s give it another half hour or so, shall we? Then I’ll call you a cab.’ ‘You’re good boy,’ Jenny says, patting my hand.
What do You think about The Trouble With Henry And Zoe?
