“There will be many, many visits to the dentist in your future.”
Well, I’m sure that’s what she would have said, if I’d consulted a soothsayer.
I was just looking at the remnants of my back molar sitting beside my chair. One piece looks like a baby tooth!
It’s been hurting for a week or so, just a little twinge, and I thought, hmmm, should go to the dentist. Now, it’s a must visit next week. I’ve been pretty luck over the years. I have not yet had to endure a root canal, just a few fillings, here and there. If there’s a root canal in my future, I’m thinking, load me up with Atavan and get out the pliers. Why not? You can’t see that tooth and I’m sure I won’t miss it.
Hopefully, the dentist can fill it. But I’m not willing to fork out a grand or so for a crown on something that will probably distinegrate anyway. That’s old people thinking, right? A youngin’ would be horrified — I would have been horrified– at the prospect of pulling a tooth instead of trying to save it.
Oh, well. Life’s too short to worry about such things.
At times like this, I wish I had dental insurance. If I still held a Great West Life card, I’d probably put up with multiple procedures, but I’m a freelancer. I’m always strapped for cash. So best to keep it simple.
This is me, over analyzing again. As my Facebook friend Christine said: “Make sure you have lots of vodka to keep it sterile.”
That’s the ticket!
I’m not going to let a little molar get in the way of a fantabulous Canada Day Weekend.
I’ll just stay on the liquids.