Thursday, August 20, 2015

What Time Do You Go to the Dentist?

I was thinking about the answer to my favorite riddle yesterday. The answer, of course, is that you go to the dentist at 2:30. (Tooth-hurty, get it?) It was only 1 o'clock, but in my mouth it was definitely tooth-hurty.

This is unusual for me. I have been blessed with good teeth, and except for one astounding check-up when I was a junior in high school and had mumblety-mumble cavities (I'm too embarrassed to even say how many it was, but the repair of those cavities required two appointments) I've managed to avoid much time in the dentist chair. No braces, no crowns (knock wood), minimal problems.

Until this year.

Several months ago I noticed that one of my upper molars seemed to be sensitive to cold. I've always been an popsicle biter, and suddenly biting down on that frozen deliciousness made me want to claw the side of my face off.

Huh. That does not seem normal, but nothing showed up on dental x-rays and my friendly tooth guy said it probably was the stress of having a husband who is chair of the school board during these wack-a-doodle days of local education. (I did not point out to him that he could have stopped after "stress of having a husband," because the tooth guy knows Husband and would have laughed heartily.)

So yesterday, when the tooth was still hurting, I went back. This time I was emphatic.

IT HURTS, I told the lovely hygienist. (Do you know how much I love my dental hygienist? So, so much. Do you know why? Because she is gentle and efficient and only talks to me when she does not have her hands or sharp tools in my mouth. She is perfection.)

So more x-rays were taken, and still my teeth's innards are pristine. The friendly tooth guy said I definitely was doing some clenching and did I have any stress in my life these days? When I stopped laughing he did some drilling around, just enough to make me remember the smell (oooh, that horrible smell) and then sent me home with instructions to relax.

In an hour I have an appointment to see my non-tooth doctor, the body guy who I'm assuming will tell me I have leprosy or dengue fever or something else that would refer pain to unlucky tooth number 13. But if he doesn't, and he tells me I just need to relax, I'll see you in a month because I am booking a cruise to Tahiti.

That's the prescription when it's tooth-hurty, right?

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