1. Marriage
2. Children
3. Having a root canal
Until today, I had failed, miserably, at only the first two. But, then this morning, I pushed out into the subzero predawn (-2 degrees) and wandered over for my first–and pray G-d–only root canal. Here’s me before the procedure.
The tech couldn’t have been nicer. The endodontist was a very reassuring guy (even if he is ex-Navy . . . and boy, didn’t they trounce Army). The procedure was . . . well, it was a root canal. Not something I’d recommend. Not excruciating or anything: apparently, dentistry has entered the 21st century. (They even do dental CTs. Who’d’ve thunk?)
Sitting there with my mouth cranked open as they roto-rootered that stupid tooth . . . I felt, like, I’d done something bad. I was being punished. But why? I brushed. I flossed. Only slovenly, floss-aversive, JuJube/Gummi Bear/Wine Gum addicts got cavities, never mind root canals. (For the record, I’ve had three cavities, all post-orthodontia some . . . well, I’m not going to tell you how many years ago that was. Trust me, we’re talking years.)
The culprit? My dentist thinks it’s because I grind my teeth at night. Anyone who knows me probably isn’t surprised. A writer-friend told me I make coffee nervous. Yeah, but I wear a stupid guard . . . so I could definitely relate to Date Night.
Honestly, Hubby refuses to talk to me when I wear that thing. Frankly? I don’t blame him.
Right now, my lower lip feels like it belongs on the face of the Michelin tire guy. I sound like I’ve sucked down a fifth. Tongue . . . what tongue? My tooth doesn’t hurt–yet–but that’s because they had to blast me with all this anesthetic because I am, OF COURSE, in that small percentage where the nerves are all tangled up the wrong way and take forever to numb and . . . well, it was ugly. I swear, it took longer to get numb than it did to do the procedure!
OTOH, the procedure was kind of interesting, and the doc was very cool about explaining every step. As a surgeon-wannabe, I have no trouble with this kind of stuff, even if it’s happening to me (just make me numb, that’s all I ask). One of my first medico-memories was laid when I was six years old and watched the ER doc throw stitches in my right elbow after I crashed through a sliding glass door. It was really interesting! Okay, shattering through glass wasn’t so cool and there was a lot of blood, but the whole ER thing was so neat. I musta gotten hooked on trauma right about then.
So now, while I wait to feel semi-normal again, I think this offering from our 2008 Messiah concert is a reasonably accurate description of how I feel. 😉
