My so-called journal

Today was a doozy…the main thing that happened was I got a molly bolt punched into my jaw—the first of five. I've actually been waiting for several years to get this done, so I'm pretty happy to be starting on it finally. I'm getting it done at the slow-moving NYU College of Dentistry; the tooth I'm currently having replaced is/was a molar, the first tooth I lost to a student's negligence up at Columbia College of Dentistry.

(I actually keep my teeth very clean, and have for at least 20 years; every dentist I've seen since I was living back in Connecticut with my parents has remarked on how clean they are—until they look closer.)

The others appear to have been teeth that had been root-canaled and the actual tooth rotted out under the porcelain crown. This has happened an embarrassing number of times, and is the reason I originally only needed one tooth replaced in this way, but now need these five, plus my lower incisors, which apparently are hanging on by a thread—although I wasn't aware of that and can still bite into things.

My ex had been very gung-ho on the idea of my investigating dental tourism, especially to Mexico. I got cold feet about that one because the last time I flew was in 1979. And the only Español I speak is Las cucarachas entran, pero no pueden salir. I've never traveled alone, and certainly not to a foreign country–last I looked, Mexico was a foreign country. (To anyone who asks, "Can't you travel with a friend?" Uh, nope. No friends–I'm not too happy about that either.)

So this is enough of an adventure for now; the anesthesia is finally wearing off–the dentist today asked me, "Do you want another shot?" and I really didn't, but I fortunately didn't feel anything.

[Note: There apparently has been a rash of selfie-taking in dentist chairs, enough so that at NYU Dental there are signs posted opposite every patient chair stating that there are to be NO SELFIES in the dentist chair. Private dentists will allow it, of course. So I took my selfie—in my icon—before it was A Thing.]

Well, I cracked a molar over the weekend; it was a wisdom tooth, and I made an emergency appointment at my dental clinic. The dentist said it would have to be root-canaled, and I figured that for a wisdom tooth, it might as well be extracted. "It isn't a necessary tooth, is it?" I asked.

"Well, no," said the dentist.

"It won't affect my bite, will it?" I asked.

"No."

"Well, pull it out, then," I said.

"You're not in any pain, so you can sleep on it," she said.

Having just spent a few months of evening appointments, and nearly $2000 on my root canal a few months ago, I wasn't eager to repeat the experience. "No really; that's my final answer," I said. "Pull it out."

( This is gross, so don't feel you have to look--it's my bloody tooth. )