I hate dealing with dental crap.
All those nerves and bones and grinding noises. I try to avoid dentists if possible (outside of begrudgingly accepted checkups and whatnot) and luckily, aside from my anarchic wisdoms, have had nice, sturdy teeth to allow me to be so evasive.
However, some time around Monday or Tuesday, one of my upper teeth suddenly went kablooie. You know, the kind where your nerve hums and bounces disconcertingly as you walk, and chewing makes everything explode into fierce, electrical chaos? I thought I had perhaps cracked that rather expensive gold inlay that I had done back in Shanghai a few years ago and would need to shell out another fortune and endure unpleasant drilling noises to have it sorted out.
I made an appointment with my local dentist across the park, who was super busy and couldn’t see me until Friday (that would be Day 27, as noted above). All week, I whimpered and chewed very, very tentatively and endured low-level pain through what seemed like every single freaking bone on the right side of my face. I worried about what might be happening to my tooth and its nerves if the inlay was indeed cracked or broken off and I had a vulnerable hole there. I couldn’t see what it looked like, as it was too far back on the top row.
I imagined a great big pulsating black crater, slowly but steadily crumbling away.
And then I went to see her.
And it’s fine.
Or rather, it’s not broken or cracked or anything requiring drilling or other scary things.
My tooth, it seems, is either bruised or concussed.
Concussed!
I had no idea that was even a thing.
It just needs gentleness and time to heal, give or take a week or two.
Oh, and there was also the added bonus that the NHS covers all costs for pregnant women and mothers for a year after the birth.
Free! And no drilling!
Hooray times a million, y’all.
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