Wednesday, April 13, 2016


A few weeks ago I felt deeply, truly sorry for myself because I had to have an emergency root canal. Yesterday's adventures featured an emergency tooth removal. I've gotten all the pity they're willing to give me from my family, who points out, one by one, that 1) they had teeth pulled for braces, plus braces for several years; 2) they had four wisdom teeth surgically removed at the same time; 3) they ruptured their Achilles tendon and had three separate operations on the same knee. To which I reply, tdigging for a bit more sympathy, yes, but I had a tooth removed today. I am miserable. 

Yet on the other hand, I am grateful. Because the whole reason the tooth removal was an emergency is that I'm hopping on a plane for France this afternoon, to go hang out with my son for an extended weekend. Two separate dentists moved their schedules around a lot so that I wouldn't suffer from my cracked molar while I was abroad. Which was pretty nice of them.

Still. It was my favorite tooth. It had a little notch on the inside that I liked to run my tongue over, and now I've got an enormous hole where it used to be, for the next 5 months until it all heals well enough for a crown. You can't see the hole when I smile, which is useful as it means I won't need to spend the next 5 months explaining how I lost a tooth. For the record, it was a piece of popcorn. Savage, superhuman popcorn. Either that or really wimpy teeth.