What the heck happened here? Dentists used to ask me if I even used my teeth. Apparently, pride goeth before the fall and the dentist’s appointment.I used to shake my head in puzzlement at people who winced at a visit to the dentist. This was in my salad days when I had perfect teeth. As with far too many things, I presumed I would always have great teeth. Simply put, given time all things change. So now I am paying off the dentist’s home loan, requiring three crowns in the span of 18 months, plus getting a night guard to stop my teeth grinding, and coming within a gnat’s eyelash of getting braces. When I said I wanted to feel 16 again, braces were not really what I had in mind. I chickened out at the last minute. The $5,000 price tag helped dissolve my resolve.
Meanwhile, a chunk of one of my molars disappeared during the holidays. I have always had a perverse skill at getting sick before a big date, or while traveling or when every facility needed is, for some reason, closed. Upon finally getting into the dentist’s chair, my need for that third crown was confirmed. Despite my $400 night guard, I had managed to crack yet another tooth via my nightly tooth-grinding Weltschmerz.
You thought that was tiresome? Now I really get to start whining. After four hours of Novocain, drilling, scraping, cheek stretching, jaw cracking, gargling, casting and creating a crown “while-you-wait,” the dentist placed it on and told me to bite down hard. Always an obedient child, I did, causing the crown to summarily crack in two. It was really hard to tell who wanted to slap somebody more … the dentist or me. We both knew there was no one to slap, but it didn’t make us any less inclined.
I then got to rise and be at the dentist’s first thing this morning to finish the job. All seems to be well. I think they may have sent out for an extra-durable crocodile tooth, this time, as there is some suspicion I might have been that, a hyena or perhaps a Rottweiler in my last life.