You know when your dentist says, “Whew…I never want to do a filling like that again!” that it wasn’t fun for him. I didn’t find it so bad; after the two needles I just sat there and watched CNN. Granted, my upper left gumline now feels like an innnertube, but there was no pain and you don’t really have to do much except lie there and listen to him drill shit. Still, he said that the cavity was so deep that the gum had started growing into the gap over the old filling, so he had to, and I quote: “Get rid of some of that gum tissue.” I suspect that I’ll understand what that means in a few hours when the freezing wears off.

As I said earlier, it’s not even my fault that I have this goddamn cavity. I’ve always taken pretty good care of my teeth, and this is the only cavity I’ve ever had. But when I was younger — maybe 11 or 12 — I had some appliances put on my teeth to keep them from crowding together. My orthodontist, who was both a sadist and a putz, left the hooks from this appliance on my upper back teeth in case I ever wanted braces. They stayed there for six or seven years, and I never did get the braces, so finally my usual dentist took them off. “Uh oh,” says he. “They put this on wrong. It’s too far from the tooth. A cavity’s formed where food got in between.” Brilliant. And he tells me this just a few days before I move to Toronto, so there’s no time for him to fix it, but it doesn’t hurt anyway. I guess the nerve wasn’t exposed or something.

A few months after moving up here, as I’m eating some french fries, I feel something crunchy in my mouth. I start to freak out ’cause I assume something hard and sharp was in my fries; turns out a big chunk of that tooth had just broken off. I find a dentist post haste. He gives me my first filling, during which I fall asleep and he has to prop my mouth open with some kind of spring-loaded tarpaulin. I ignore his instructions about not eating for a few hours and promptly chew the shit out of my tongue.

So, anyway, more years go by and that filling just wasn’t doing the job anymore, hence my trip to the fun chair today. All seems well for now, but talk to me around 1:00 and see if I’m still in a good mood.

0 responses to “113275872651623705

  1. Pingback: Jumbo shrimp. Open secret. Deafening silence. – Skirl | Dan Dickinson·

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