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"That's Disgusting"


maqroll

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I figure that by the end of this thread, the Flatulence thread will look highbrow.

I just did a double take because I didn't know what I just swallowed. Dunno if it was a bite of the pizza I'm eating or a string of congealed blood dangling from the roof of my mouth because I had my rear molar pulled earlier today and I've been leaking blood. Pretty barbaric visit. He had to slice and dice around my gum line and make three saw cuts around the tooth before he took a set of jumbo pliers and twisted the thing out of there. The dental assistant was making pained sounds throughout. Not very helpful.

But yeah, I've been reckoning with this swinging tendon of congealment, trying not to swallow it.

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6 hours ago, maqroll said:

I figure that by the end of this thread, the Flatulence thread will look highbrow.

I just did a double take because I didn't know what I just swallowed. Dunno if it was a bite of the pizza I'm eating or a string of congealed blood dangling from the roof of my mouth because I had my rear molar pulled earlier today and I've been leaking blood. Pretty barbaric visit. He had to slice and dice around my gum line and make three saw cuts around the tooth before he took a set of jumbo pliers and twisted the thing out of there. The dental assistant was making pained sounds throughout. Not very helpful.

But yeah, I've been reckoning with this swinging tendon of congealment, trying not to swallow it.

I once had a back tooth out. As they were pulling the blighter out the top half broke off, and I was left with the bottom half and root still left in. They had to cut around the gum in order to be able to pull it out. Very painful. Something weirdly pleasurable about having teeth pulled out, I think. 

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I had to have a tooth pulled a few years ago that more or less turned into a comedy sketch.

The dentist did the usual investigations and said they'd need to pull a problem tooth. I expected that anyway so no bother. They drill a hole in the tooth, put in what I can only think of as being some miniaturised climbing gear, one of those things they jam into cracks in a cliff face that then grips in place, and starts rocking this side to side, with an accompaniment of wet cracks and pops coming from my jaw. This continues for about 5 minutes.

Then the tooth breaks.

The dentist stumbles back, swears, and then says very exasperatedly 'you clearly have very strong roots to your teeth...', leans over me and looks at what is left of my tooth. Then swears under their breath again and scuttles out of the room. A few minutes later they come back, apparently with another dentist in tow. They briefly look at the damage in my mouth, then jab it with what appeared to be a giant steel toothpick. Unsatisfied with that, they huddle together and have a hushed chat. I hear 'dental hospital', and wonder exactly how they think I'm going to get to the dental hospital with a shattered molar half removed and anaesthetic wearing off.

The dentist then leans over, looks at me directly in the eyes, and says 'we're going to need to cut into your gum, you have very deep strong roots and we can't get it out without doing this here'. I nod, and they grab a scalpel. I can feel the blade cut my gum, and keep cutting my gum, and then reach the bottom of my gum, and nearly start cutting the bottom of cheek. Then the toothpick of doom reappears. It feels like they are jamming this through my gum, under my tooth, and using it like a crowbar to pry up the tooth. I can feel the blood coming out of the wound now, despite the suction tube thing doing it's best, and I'm trying to swallow with my mouth wide open and can feel the odd splinter of enamel mixed in with the blood I'm swallowing.

The dentists then huddle together again. Again I catch 'dental hospital', this time with a bit more insistence. I also catch the word 'bone'. The dentist leans over again and says, quite matter of factly, 'your teeth are quite uncooperative, the roots are very deep and strong and twisted, to get it out we will have to drill out your jaw'. I didn't know this was a thing. I can't exactly refuse to have my jawbone chopped away. The power tools come back out. This leads to the most bizarre feeling I've ever had. You know the noise of a router going through a bit of wood, that strained screaming whirring that changes in pitch as the wood fights the cutting bit? That exact sound was coming from my jaw, but also was reverberating through my jaw to my ear , internally. It was like my ear had a drill inside it. My face was getting spattered with blood, spit, lumps of bone. I'm having to swallow constantly as otherwise it starts to feel like I can't breathe. Finally the drilling stops and another tool comes out, jammed under the tooth at an angle below the gumline. The dentist starts pulling.

At this point it should be noted the dentist was a tiny Asian woman. I would have guessed she was no more than 5 foot tall, and probably less. She starts putting all her weight, which isn't saying much, on whatever thing they've screwed into the remains of my tooth. A few cracks, another pop. Nothing. She says to the other dentist and the assistant nurse, through gritted teeth and seemingly worn out, 'Hold him'. The nurse grabs my shoulder, the other dentist pushes against my other arm. I feel the chair judder a little. Then the pulling on my jaw goes through the roof and my entire head and body is pulled towards the edge of the seat, despite the restraint of the other 2. I realise the dentist has braced her feet against the seat and is now doing her best Steve Redgrave impression on the lump of metal attached to my tooth. I'm being dragged of the seat by this tiny woman. My jaw, on the other side, starts to really hurt. Another pop, and another crack. The pressure stops. The dentist stumbles. The blood spurts. The metal hangs slack out my mouth. The dentist gets back to her feet, grabs the tool, and yanks, hard. There's a nasty pop, the feeling of elastic springing back in my jaw, and something wet slaps into my tongue. The blood keeps coming.

Finally it was out. This whole thing had taken an hour. The dentist does the fastest and worst stitch I've ever had on the gumline, looks at me dejectedly and says 'you have very awkward teeth' and send me on my way.

As a bit of an epilogue I was at uni at this point and a week later needed the stitch out. I went to the local surgery and asked if they could remove the stitch to save me going back to Birmingham just to do such a simple thing. The doctor was having none of it. 'Dentist put it in, dentist take it out'was all he would say. I eventually persuaded him that him cutting a string is easier than me wasting my time and beer money going home to get such a simple thing done, but he wasn't happy about it.

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21 minutes ago, Chindie said:

I had to have a tooth pulled a few years ago that more or less turned into a comedy sketch.

The dentist did the usual investigations and said they'd need to pull a problem tooth. I expected that anyway so no bother. They drill a hole in the tooth, put in what I can only think of as being some miniaturised climbing gear, one of those things they jam into cracks in a cliff face that then grips in place, and starts rocking this side to side, with an accompaniment of wet cracks and pops coming from my jaw. This continues for about 5 minutes.

Then the tooth breaks.

The dentist stumbles back, swears, and then says very exasperatedly 'you clearly have very strong roots to your teeth...', leans over me and looks at what is left of my tooth. Then swears under their breath again and scuttles out of the room. A few minutes later they come back, apparently with another dentist in tow. They briefly look at the damage in my mouth, then jab it with what appeared to be a giant steel toothpick. Unsatisfied with that, they huddle together and have a hushed chat. I hear 'dental hospital', and wonder exactly how they think I'm going to get to the dental hospital with a shattered molar half removed and anaesthetic wearing off.

The dentist then leans over, looks at me directly in the eyes, and says 'we're going to need to cut into your gum, you have very deep strong roots and we can't get it out without doing this here'. I nod, and they grab a scalpel. I can feel the blade cut my gum, and keep cutting my gum, and then reach the bottom of my gum, and nearly start cutting the bottom of cheek. Then the toothpick of doom reappears. It feels like they are jamming this through my gum, under my tooth, and using it like a crowbar to pry up the tooth. I can feel the blood coming out of the wound now, despite the suction tube thing doing it's best, and I'm trying to swallow with my mouth wide open and can feel the odd splinter of enamel mixed in with the blood I'm swallowing.

The dentists then huddle together again. Again I catch 'dental hospital', this time with a bit more insistence. I also catch the word 'bone'. The dentist leans over again and says, quite matter of factly, 'your teeth are quite uncooperative, the roots are very deep and strong and twisted, to get it out we will have to drill out your jaw'. I didn't know this was a thing. I can't exactly refuse to have my jawbone chopped away. The power tools come back out. This leads to the most bizarre feeling I've ever had. You know the noise of a router going through a bit of wood, that strained screaming whirring that changes in pitch as the wood fights the cutting bit? That exact sound was coming from my jaw, but also was reverberating through my jaw to my ear , internally. It was like my ear had a drill inside it. My face was getting spattered with blood, spit, lumps of bone. I'm having to swallow constantly as otherwise it starts to feel like I can't breathe. Finally the drilling stops and another tool comes out, jammed under the tooth at an angle below the gumline. The dentist starts pulling.

At this point it should be noted the dentist was a tiny Asian woman. I would have guessed she was no more than 5 foot tall, and probably less. She starts putting all her weight, which isn't saying much, on whatever thing they've screwed into the remains of my tooth. A few cracks, another pop. Nothing. She says to the other dentist and the assistant nurse, through gritted teeth and seemingly worn out, 'Hold him'. The nurse grabs my shoulder, the other dentist pushes against my other arm. I feel the chair judder a little. Then the pulling on my jaw goes through the roof and my entire head and body is pulled towards the edge of the seat, despite the restraint of the other 2. I realise the dentist has braced her feet against the seat and is now doing her best Steve Redgrave impression on the lump of metal attached to my tooth. I'm being dragged of the seat by this tiny woman. My jaw, on the other side, starts to really hurt. Another pop, and another crack. The pressure stops. The dentist stumbles. The blood spurts. The metal hangs slack out my mouth. The dentist gets back to her feet, grabs the tool, and yanks, hard. There's a nasty pop, the feeling of elastic springing back in my jaw, and something wet slaps into my tongue. The blood keeps coming.

Finally it was out. This whole thing had taken an hour. The dentist does the fastest and worst stitch I've ever had on the gumline, looks at me dejectedly and says 'you have very awkward teeth' and send me on my way.

As a bit of an epilogue I was at uni at this point and a week later needed the stitch out. I went to the local surgery and asked if they could remove the stitch to save me going back to Birmingham just to do such a simple thing. The doctor was having none of it. 'Dentist put it in, dentist take it out'was all he would say. I eventually persuaded him that him cutting a string is easier than me wasting my time and beer money going home to get such a simple thing done, but he wasn't happy about it.

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*If you get it, then you get it.

Edited by Designer1
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if its thread for horrible dental stories i think i might have some posts for here¬†ūüėÜ

i had an implant in the summer, my old false tooth was **** so stumped up the money and had a proper one, went for the CT scan or whatever to get a 3D image of my jaw bone, turns out mine was a bit thin so the first operation i had was to cut open my gums and squirt in some fake bone structure stuff, 2nd operation was because that had gone a bit too well so they needed to cut my gums open again and shave off a bit of the fake bone (it was during this op that the girl holding the sucker thing fainted) then they put the socket in to my jaw bone, i wanted to be knocked out but they said i reacted well to what they were doing so didnt bother so im drugged up but awake for the just over 2 hour op, 3rd op was then put the screw in to the socket, 4th was to put the tooth on the screw, took i think 8 visits in total, the worst thing wasnt the gums or the jaw bone thing though, after it was all done i made the mistake of saying i didnt have much confidence eating with it because it felt a bit loose...the tooth is more or less concreted on the screw so that gets yanked off, the guy then gets some sort of ratchet device and starts to tighten the screw in to my jaw bone until it wont go any further...i've never felt pain like it, hard to describe, he puts the tooth back on and im done, problem now is i think the tooth is slightly on the piss...i cant be bothered to do it again

i have false teeth thanks to a bike accident in my teens, hit a kerb handlebars in to my mouth then landed on my face, made a right mess

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Worst job I ever had was at a festival build.

On the same site every year, much of the unglamorous kit like furniture, stillages and flatpack structures were carefully stacked high in barns, so it would come out in the right order next time around.

The most common flooring on that site was coconut matting. It's like doormat that comes in rolls like carpets. Perfect for muddy tents, when it got wrecked it would rot down or burn and as a by-product it was cheap. Then it became popular in kitchens and halls. It got more expensive by factors.

It was decided that as much as possible was to be rescued and stored. So a mountain of this matting was created at the back of one of the barns, just before a fallow year.

Two years later we returned, the barn undisturbed for that time. Obviously you expect a bit of vermin in barns.

The mountain had become a rat city. They'd chewed paths and chambers through the pile that the farm's cats had no access to.

Mingin. It had to be destroyed. To be destroyed it had to be removed.

Ugh

Dusty, filled with rats, rat piss and shit and worse.

Fortunately the barn is large enough for a telehandler, a JCB forklift that can crab left and right.

Small mercy. No carrying on shoulders, just lift the rolls on to the forks.

Then as we start clearing, hairless rat babies started falling out the rolls. The floor became covered in them

No one was going to pick them up.

As the pile of matting receded, the crabbing telehandler advanced up the barn. The floor became covered with rat patties.

When the matting was gone, we'd had well enough. The pleasures of scraping up mangled rat flesh would wait until morning.

Good decision.

When we returned the following morning all the patties had gone.

Consumed by their parents presumably?

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10 minutes ago, Xann said:

The pleasures of scraping up mangled rat flesh would wait until morning.

Good decision.

When we returned the following morning all the patties had gone.

Consumed by their parents presumably?

I reckon the guys from the burger van had been over.

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2 hours ago, Xann said:

Worst job I ever had was at a festival build.

On the same site every year, much of the unglamorous kit like furniture, stillages and flatpack structures were carefully stacked high in barns, so it would come out in the right order next time around.

The most common flooring on that site was coconut matting. It's like doormat that comes in rolls like carpets. Perfect for muddy tents, when it got wrecked it would rot down or burn and as a by-product it was cheap. Then it became popular in kitchens and halls. It got more expensive by factors.

It was decided that as much as possible was to be rescued and stored. So a mountain of this matting was created at the back of one of the barns, just before a fallow year.

Two years later we returned, the barn undisturbed for that time. Obviously you expect a bit of vermin in barns.

The mountain had become a rat city. They'd chewed paths and chambers through the pile that the farm's cats had no access to.

Mingin. It had to be destroyed. To be destroyed it had to be removed.

Ugh

Dusty, filled with rats, rat piss and shit and worse.

Fortunately the barn is large enough for a telehandler, a JCB forklift that can crab left and right.

Small mercy. No carrying on shoulders, just lift the rolls on to the forks.

Then as we start clearing, hairless rat babies started falling out the rolls. The floor became covered in them

No one was going to pick them up.

As the pile of matting receded, the crabbing telehandler advanced up the barn. The floor became covered with rat patties.

When the matting was gone, we'd had well enough. The pleasures of scraping up mangled rat flesh would wait until morning.

Good decision.

When we returned the following morning all the patties had gone.

Consumed by their parents presumably?

This made me feel sad for the baby rats, which would turn into big horrible rats. A bit like that cute little baby who turns into a mass child murderer. 

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7 hours ago, Chindie said:

I had to have a tooth pulled a few years ago that more or less turned into a comedy sketch.

The dentist did the usual investigations and said they'd need to pull a problem tooth. I expected that anyway so no bother. They drill a hole in the tooth, put in what I can only think of as being some miniaturised climbing gear, one of those things they jam into cracks in a cliff face that then grips in place, and starts rocking this side to side, with an accompaniment of wet cracks and pops coming from my jaw. This continues for about 5 minutes.

Then the tooth breaks.

The dentist stumbles back, swears, and then says very exasperatedly 'you clearly have very strong roots to your teeth...', leans over me and looks at what is left of my tooth. Then swears under their breath again and scuttles out of the room. A few minutes later they come back, apparently with another dentist in tow. They briefly look at the damage in my mouth, then jab it with what appeared to be a giant steel toothpick. Unsatisfied with that, they huddle together and have a hushed chat. I hear 'dental hospital', and wonder exactly how they think I'm going to get to the dental hospital with a shattered molar half removed and anaesthetic wearing off.

The dentist then leans over, looks at me directly in the eyes, and says 'we're going to need to cut into your gum, you have very deep strong roots and we can't get it out without doing this here'. I nod, and they grab a scalpel. I can feel the blade cut my gum, and keep cutting my gum, and then reach the bottom of my gum, and nearly start cutting the bottom of cheek. Then the toothpick of doom reappears. It feels like they are jamming this through my gum, under my tooth, and using it like a crowbar to pry up the tooth. I can feel the blood coming out of the wound now, despite the suction tube thing doing it's best, and I'm trying to swallow with my mouth wide open and can feel the odd splinter of enamel mixed in with the blood I'm swallowing.

The dentists then huddle together again. Again I catch 'dental hospital', this time with a bit more insistence. I also catch the word 'bone'. The dentist leans over again and says, quite matter of factly, 'your teeth are quite uncooperative, the roots are very deep and strong and twisted, to get it out we will have to drill out your jaw'. I didn't know this was a thing. I can't exactly refuse to have my jawbone chopped away. The power tools come back out. This leads to the most bizarre feeling I've ever had. You know the noise of a router going through a bit of wood, that strained screaming whirring that changes in pitch as the wood fights the cutting bit? That exact sound was coming from my jaw, but also was reverberating through my jaw to my ear , internally. It was like my ear had a drill inside it. My face was getting spattered with blood, spit, lumps of bone. I'm having to swallow constantly as otherwise it starts to feel like I can't breathe. Finally the drilling stops and another tool comes out, jammed under the tooth at an angle below the gumline. The dentist starts pulling.

At this point it should be noted the dentist was a tiny Asian woman. I would have guessed she was no more than 5 foot tall, and probably less. She starts putting all her weight, which isn't saying much, on whatever thing they've screwed into the remains of my tooth. A few cracks, another pop. Nothing. She says to the other dentist and the assistant nurse, through gritted teeth and seemingly worn out, 'Hold him'. The nurse grabs my shoulder, the other dentist pushes against my other arm. I feel the chair judder a little. Then the pulling on my jaw goes through the roof and my entire head and body is pulled towards the edge of the seat, despite the restraint of the other 2. I realise the dentist has braced her feet against the seat and is now doing her best Steve Redgrave impression on the lump of metal attached to my tooth. I'm being dragged of the seat by this tiny woman. My jaw, on the other side, starts to really hurt. Another pop, and another crack. The pressure stops. The dentist stumbles. The blood spurts. The metal hangs slack out my mouth. The dentist gets back to her feet, grabs the tool, and yanks, hard. There's a nasty pop, the feeling of elastic springing back in my jaw, and something wet slaps into my tongue. The blood keeps coming.

Finally it was out. This whole thing had taken an hour. The dentist does the fastest and worst stitch I've ever had on the gumline, looks at me dejectedly and says 'you have very awkward teeth' and send me on my way.

As a bit of an epilogue I was at uni at this point and a week later needed the stitch out. I went to the local surgery and asked if they could remove the stitch to save me going back to Birmingham just to do such a simple thing. The doctor was having none of it. 'Dentist put it in, dentist take it out'was all he would say. I eventually persuaded him that him cutting a string is easier than me wasting my time and beer money going home to get such a simple thing done, but he wasn't happy about it.

That’s actually quite unbelievable. 

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10 hours ago, Rugeley Villa said:

I think I’ve ran out of filthy things to post. From drinking women’s urine to pulling my hand out of a woman’s arse to discover sweet corn on my hand. 

:excl: Lesson learned -  never read villatalk whilst eating!  My naan kebab just doesn't taste right now.  

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8 hours ago, Chindie said:

I had to have a tooth pulled a few years ago that more or less turned into a comedy sketch.

<horror>

Jesus bloody Christ man, I'm not exaggerating when I say all the blood has run from my face reading that.  Just... bloody hell.

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A comment elsewhere reminded me of this.

My dad worked his entire career with Birmingham Council Housing Department. He worked, particularly when I was younger, on the out of hours service. He was a carpenter and joiner, which basically meant he became the door guy when he did out of hours jobs. Tenants locked out, doors broken, that kinda thing. I always remember a couple of stories he told us about.

He was called out to a job where access was needed to be gained to a property. When he got there it was obvious he was going to need to help secure the property's afterwards. This effectively meant waiting around and checking out the door and so on while the other departments got on with things. There was some other council guys there and a few nosey neighbours. 

He was going up to the building when he noticed there other people there were seemingly a bit reluctant to go in. The window had curtains drawn, and the windows themselves looked dirty. Nevertheless he carried on, he needed to measure up and see exactly what needed doing.

As he got closer he noticed the smell. It smelt like bad plumbing. Overwhelmingly so. That rotten, shit mixed with fat all decomposing together smell. He could see why the others seemed to prefer being outside. Still he needed to measure up.

He put his head round the door. The place was completely bizarre. The first reaction was it was like one if those crazed hoarder places, crap everywhere. But just having loads of stuff doesn't explain the smell. That's when his eyes adjusted to the light. Not only was the place a tip, there literally was crap everywhere. The tenants had used the entire place, seemingly, as a toilet. The floor was covered in shit stained straw and papers, the walls stained with it and appeared to have streaks of condensation cutting through the sheer grime of what appeared to be years of built up rotting waste. The windows were filled with dead flies. Bits of the floor were writhing with insects.

Apparently he didn't hang around after that. He got the job done and clocked off. He threw away a lot of the stuff he'd used on that job.

The second started off fairly similarly. Forced access to a property, need help securing it. He got there quite quickly and again was met by the jumble of other services and locals. This time it was clear what the job was about though. There was an ambulance there. 

The scene was similar to the last. Guys not wanting to go in, others coming out and breathing deeply. There wasn't quite so much smell this time, but there was definitely the sickly smell of a corpse. It wasn't unusual for housing department guys to attend discoveries of bodies, they usually turned up to assist getting buildings secured and sometimes even helped get access - my dad regularly helped with people who were locked out of buildings and sometimes he or his mates would get calls to assist in getting into council houses - so he knew the smell. There was also the smell of rotten food mixed in with it, which he assumed meant they were attending a reasonably recent death, there wasn't the truly putrid smell you get off the long dead.

Still he thought it was weird that some of the guys who dealt with this kinda thing day to day were struggling with it. He had attended worse than this before now.

Again getting ready to measure up, he could see in the front room of the property. And saw why it was an unusual one. The tenant was an old bloke, lived alone, and as is common hadn't been found quickly. Thankfully it was January, in high summer the scene would have been far worse.

Unfortunately, it was January... The old bloke had seemingly had a heart attack or something, and had collapsed. Collapsed onto a portable heater. For a while.

That food smell? It was him. His body had been partly cooked. Cooked and then begun to rot. Elsewhere the heat had speed up and exacerbated some of the decomposition, making a particularly nasty scene. The body had a noticeable stain around it, like fluid had seeped out of it. 

He never really ate beef dripping after that.

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5 minutes ago, Chindie said:

The tenant was an old bloke, lived alone, and as is common hadn't been found quickly. Thankfully it was January, in high summer the scene would have been far worse.

Unfortunately, it was January... The old bloke had seemingly had a heart attack or something, and had collapsed. Collapsed onto a portable heater. For a while.

That food smell? It was him. His body had been partly cooked. Cooked and then begun to rot. Elsewhere the heat had speed up and exacerbated some of the decomposition, making a particularly nasty scene. The body had a noticeable stain around it, like fluid had seeped out of it. 

He never really ate beef dripping after that.

I assume the old man made a full recovery?

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