I doubt this is helpful, but I think it's a good story, so...
I had an inflamed gum where a bit of peanut had got stuck between my back teeth. Managed to locate a NHS dentist. Practice was in an old house in Bow, next to a railway line, and I had to step over a couple of broken stairs on the way to his room.
Not being British, I was used to dental surgeries of the kind you see in Hollywood movies, where the whole room is shining white and full of equipment and lights, like the bridge of a space ship. My first experience of the NHS was a little more down to earth. There was a proper dentist chair, but the light he operated by consisted of a single 40w naked light bulb, hanging from the ceiling rose, that, when lit, made the room darker. (Thanks to Spike Milligan for that one.)
He told me it would a good idea to have four wisdom teeth removed. (I assume I returned at a later date for this, but can't remember, it was long ago.) Once he got to work on them, he made some progress, upper ones came out fairly easily, but then the top came off one of the bottom ones, and he literally threw his hands up in the air and said that he wasn't going to go any further. He gave me an emergency referral go Guy's hospital and a prescription for what turned out to be about a month's supply of antibiotics. (Dentist at Guy's literally raised eyebrows at quantity, think I was told to throw half of them away.)
Next day at Guy's, a student dentist got to work on me. He was under intermittent supervision. He got the unbroken lower one out fairly easily, before turning to the other. His supervisor explained that he should cut the tooth in half with a little circular buzz-saw, before pulling the halves out separately. As the tooth was not "fully erupted" the saw would have to go down into the jaw-bone, and apparently at a certain depth he would then need to make a turn, so that he ended up sawing more horizontally than vertically.
Student got to work, though when supervisor returned he commented that student was making the turn in the wrong direction.
Student then spent nearly two hours try to get the halves of remaining tooth out. At one point he had what looked like a bolt cutter with three foot arms in my mouth, was using both hands on it to both clamp and pull on the tooth, while one of his feet was pushing down on my chest to prevent the "bolt-cutter" from lifting me out of the chair.
Near the end of the two hours, he got one half out, and supervisor took pity on him, and offered to take over. Student was sweating and, I think, exhausted, but encouraged by the emotional rush of his recent success, decided to finish the job himself, which he did soon after. He finished off by put a few stitches in my mouth. (I remember them as being metal stitches, but don't if that can be right, as I don't remember them being removed later on. Presumably metal stitches don't dissolve?)
So how did I feel about all this? Well, it was a bit more dramatic and arduous than I expected, but during the whole of the operation a nurse was standing within my line of sight, a gorgeous young red-head with a large chest in tight tunic, and, without staring, I think most of the time I was more mentally focused on her than on him.
I departed for a skiing holiday the next day, and every time I let cold air or a cold drink in my mouth, there would be a painful contraction as the stitches pulled against the flesh.