When I got up early this morning, I had two half-finished blog posts ready to be finished off, edited, and posted.
Instead, by 11:30, I was in a chair waiting for my “favorite” dental surgeon to remove Old #19 (that’s apparently dentist talk for the second tooth from the back on the lower left side). And that tooth is as old as I am, so I can’t complain about use of the “O word.”
I knew this was coming. It’s fate was already preordained, after our regular dentist spotted a problem in my latest xrays, an otherwise unnoticed infection that was undermining the roots of this and the next tooth. A review by a specialist last week confirmed that the tooth had to go. So I had made this appointment for what I thought was going to be just a consultation in preparation for a future appointment to do the deed. But I’d been through this once before with this doctor, who turns out to be fan of my Miske reporting. So after we chatted a bit, he asked if I wanted to go ahead and do it today. Lacking any reason to avoid it, and worrying about the logistics of scheduling another date, I said, basically, “let’s do it!”
So there I sat and waited. First for the numbing gel to do its work, then watching as several foot-long needles (well, they looked like that!) disappeared into my mouth to provide lots of further numbing.
Then the fun began. This tooth had already had a root canal at some point in the distant past, but now did not seem to want to let go of my lower jaw. I watched several different tools pass across my eyes, some traded back and forth repeatedly, work shifting from one side to the other (apparently for greater leverage), and then lots of hard work. The tooth finally gave up the ghost, with several pieces that had to be targeted in separate attacks. No pain along the way, but some powerful torque exerted on those stubborn dental remnants that is probably going to result in a sore jaw later tonight, despite the recommended combo of ibuprofen and acetaminophen (first dose done about an hour ago).
I was home by about 12:43, as I recall. I wanted a good nap, but the written instructions warned against sleeping because one can choke on the bits of gauze used to soak up blood for the first hour or two. I decided to play it safe.
It’s now late afternoon. We’re just back from a quick visit to Long’s, where I picked up an antibiotic and a bottle of serious dental rinse. Now I have to check the instructions and plan my next steps into evening.
Do you suppose a medical martini is appropriate under the circumstances?
Maybe tomorrow I’ll have the energy to finish at least one of those posts that I had intended to publish today.

