Crowning glory

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So a few years ago I was driving along minding my own business eating a Milk Dud and a cusp broke off one of my six-year molars. Alas, I had no dental insurance, so I had it examined to be sure it wasn’t going to just fall out of my head and then went on my merry way.

Fast forward to the present time. I now have double coverage, making a thousand-dollar crown essentially free of charge. Time to get that thing taken care of. I went in for what I thought was going to be a consult appointment one Friday — “Oh no, you’re getting your crown today!”

Lovely.

So they filled my jaw full of Novocaine and went to town on that thing. And I got a delightful caveman tooth that they mixed up and molded on the spot, as though we were in kindergarten and it was Play-Doh time. “Come back in three weeks,” they told me.

The next day I had a migraine.  Good times.

So it was that this afternoon I settled into the dentist chair and tried not to freak out at the thought that they were going to pop the caveman tooth out and put the new one on WITHOUT ANESTHETIC.

The Lovely Rhonda said it would be no big deal.

The Lovely Rhonda, it turns out, is a lying liar of big fat hairy lies.

They popped the temporary crown off without incident, but then they had to go and poke around at it and clean it off and scrape at it with their ingenious pointy little horrible dental tools.

Then the dentist warned me: “So, uh, this part doesn’t feel too great. But it’s quick and not really worth numbing up half your face, and that also would make it harder to test the fit properly. So, uh, I just like to warn people that it will feel kind of…. icy. And then it warms up and that goes away. So uh, here we go.”

And then she drove a railroad spike of frozen steel into my jawbone for a hundred years.

Okay, it was really really unpleasantly coldly painful for like five solid long horrible seconds and then it throbbed for hours.

Five seconds is like half an hour in a dentist’s chair when someone is doing something unspeakable to your live, defenseless, naked tooth.

Then they told me to avoid eating or drinking cold foods or drinks on that side for a little while. THANKS FOR THAT, HELPFUL HORRIBLE DENTIST PERSON.

Ugh. Time for Motrin and bed.

But, it could be worse. Young Neville goes to the vet to get the big snip tomorrow.

That would probably be worse. Maybe.

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