I just got back from my friendly dentist who I let torture me in the chair for an hour.
When I was fifteen years old, I had a root canal done on a molar. The tooth has subsequently deteriorated underneath and the crown needed to be removed with a bridge put in its place.
I’ve been putting this off for a long time because:
a) It didn’t hurt
b) It would cost a lot of money.
Last night, I noticed the crown was loose so I called the dentist this morning. He could see me right away.
I thought he’d just remove the crown and I’d make another appointment to have the bridge work done.
Wrong! The molar-stump underneath had to be removed. At first, the dentist thought I’d have to go to an oral surgeon because the molar might be brittle. Then, he said he could probably do the work.
After procuring vice grips, a chisel and a jackhammer, he went to work. First the crown was removed. I don’t know what he did with it but I wanted to at least say good-bye to this crown.
You see, this gold crown and I have a history. Soon after I got it (I was fifteen, remember) it came off and I swallowed it. A call to the dentist revealed that a “search” should be done to retrieve the crown. Know what I mean?
Being a fifteen year-old, I was absolutely mortified at the prospect. My mom, being a single parent, had just been mortified over the cost of the crown.
There was no way I was going to do a “search”. There was no way mom was going to pay for another gold crown.
Mom won the stand-off. I was given a pair of Playtex gloves, a colander, and pointed to the bathroom for the next couple of days.
The crown was retrieved.
The colander was discarded.
So, the crown with which I’ve been intimate, is gone.
The dentist had to drill the molar in half, and pull and yank and tug, but he finally got it out. Then I had to have a couple of stitches. Now, I’m back at work with what feels like a Maxi-pad in my mouth.
I’ll go back in a month to have the bridge work done.
I just hope it stays put this time.