The chasm in my mouth

Last Wednesday evening, I noticed that something felt strange about one of my teeth.  Naturally, I prodded at it a bit with my tongue until I realized that I fairly large section of my molar was missing.  It didn’t hurt at all, but I got a slightly queasy feeling in the bit of my stomach when I peered in my mouth and saw a huge black chasm in my tooth.

When I told Shaun that it looked like a nice cozy cave for woodland creatures, he laughed at me. So did the dental assistant when I repeated my theory to her at my appointment first thing the next morning. (Why I bothered to share the one thought that helped me to deal with this trauma with anyone, I’ll never know…)  I wisely chose not to share my thoughts with the dentist.

I did however, tell the dentist that he was beginning to remind me of Steve Martin’s character in “The Little Shop of Horrors”.  This was probably not the best thing to say to the man who was getting ready to prowl around in my mouth with a drill and sharp pointy objects .   In my defense, he had just poked me hard enough with one of those pointy objects to make me scream and fly out of the chair.  Then he giggled with embarrassment as he apologized.

Dr. K was new to the practice, yet I found that I liked him immediately. (Despite the fact that he seemed to enjoy poking people)  He was young, forthright and had a great sense of humor.  He reminded me a lot of my baby brother. (Hmmmm….not exactly one of the things I that I look for in a dentist…)  He explained to me that my tooth had broken because of decay that had started to grow beneath a filling.  He was going to explore a bit to see how much damage there was beneath my mouth cave and then decide the best course of action from there.  

Fortunately, my nerve was not damaged so  they decided that the best way to go was to prep me for a crown (solidifying my Royal Status). Dr. K and his lovely assistant spent three hours working in my mouth before sending me on my merry way with a prescription for a pain killer and a warning that I would be sore for a day or two.

This morning, at Shaun’s nagging urging, I called the dental office again and told them that not only was my pain not subsiding, it was getting worse.  They told me to come in right away so they could see what was going on.  Dr. K made a worried face at the swollen white ridges in the back of my mouth.  After numbing me up (it’s really hard to get and keep me numb…my body metabolizes that stuff like crazy) he took some pointy tweezers in there and started pulling bits of the white stuff off.  It didn’t hurt, but I could feel exactly what he was doing and knew my mouth was going to be hamburger before he was done.  (it was/is). 

In the end it was decided that the tissue in my mouth had an adverse reaction to having so much anesthesia poured in to it. (Of course it had nothing to do with the size of those plungers needles he used to pour it into me.) This time, I was only in the chair for two hours…and walked out of there with three prescriptions. 

As soon as I got home, I couldn’t help it, I had to look at the back of my mouth in the mirror.  My stomach was definetly on the queasy side as I peered in to access the damage.  Of course the cozy cave that was in my tooth is long gone, but now I have condos for any small woodland creatures in search of a home.

Sigh…I need to go pop another one of those painkillers…

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