Crummy Crown

April 26, 2017 at 2:23 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , )

Remember when I had to go to the dentist for the worst appointment ever, when I was super hungover and had to have a crown put on my back molar? No? Well, I do and the horror of that evening will always reside deep within my heart. However I tried to put it behind me and had mostly succeeded – I even managed to get through my most recent, routine dental appointment last month with nothing more damaging than some plaque removal so I figured I was all set. That is, until this week.


Maybe I should just get a gold grill instead. Problem solved!

I was enjoying a fancy Cuban-pressed sandwich for lunch with a friend who happened to be in town when I felt it. A tooth. My thoughts went like this: Oh my GOD that’s a tooth and I don’t think I lost one. Is that someone else’s tooth?! Like that episode of Friends where Phoebe finds a thumb in her soda can and gets all sorts of rich? AM I ABOUT TO GET RICH QUICK?! Let me fish it out, oh god please don’t let it be a toenail or something like that oh CRAP IT’S MY CROWN! It’s my own freaking tooth and now I’m looking at LOSING money!

My mind works very quickly so I had all of these thoughts in about 5 seconds, or roughly the time it took to extract my crown from my mouth full of half-chewed food. I was a vision of pure loveliness, I’m sure. So not only was I worried, embarrassed and grossed out by my own damn self but then the raw nerve that had been covered by said crown began to throw a party in my face. Now. I could’ve understood the crown popping out if I was eating a caramel apple or chewing ice or opening bottles with my mouth (which is, by the way, how my genius self obtained the crown to begin with). But I was eating what was essentially a PB&J sandwich so there was just no excuse for it. Technically I was eating a guava jam and fried plantain with peanut butter sandwich but it was all still soft and the damn tooth should have just stayed put. So I got to rinse it off, call my dentist and nicely inform them of how I wasn’t going to pay for this to be fixed and then I spent my Monday evening getting the crown cemented back in my mouth. For free, so that’s something.

One would think that would be all of my health-related excitement for the week but I woke up Tuesday unable to turn my neck to the right because of some apparently funky sleep I had and I also have a bladder infection. So that’s fun and my pee looks like Tang.

At least I didn’t swallow my tooth because the last thing I want to do is explain why my tooth is stained bright orange due to being fished out of my infected urine.


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Pop a Cap in My Tooth

March 17, 2016 at 2:41 pm (Uncategorized) (, , , , , , )

I hate the dentist. I’m pretty sure I’ve announced that here before but I really hate the dentist. Actually I don’t mind my dentist so much as my dental hygienist, who I’m fairly certain is a sadist with a penchant for torture. I had a routine cleaning this week and the entire time (read: one hour) I was in a chair getting my teeth cleaned and abused, all I could think about was how much I hate that entire process. And I don’t even have bad teeth! I brush and floss regularly and haven’t had a cavity in years. The only way I was able to console myself during that entire miserable time spent in a chair was by reciting a mantra that it would be another six months before I had to go back. Six more months, six more months…I also thought of the horrors other people have had to live through and called myself a baby for not being able to handle two hours of pain once a year. I almost got to the point of biting off the hygienist’s fingers when it was finally over and I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing it would be quite a while before I went back.


Oh my god why did I google this?!

Until the dentist came in. She’s on my shit list now too. I had complained of some mild sensitivity in one spot and it’s been bothering me for about a month now. I figured it had been so long since I had a cavity that I was about due for another but no. When my dentist came by and inspected me, she discovered one of my freaking molars has a huge crack in it. She verified it by poking and prodding and blowing cold air into it and that was just fantastic. She even took a picture and uploaded it to her computer while I watched – yeah, it was pretty obvious and I guess I can’t be too mad at her since it’s not like she made it up. I’m not exactly sure how it happened (at least, that’s what I told her…I think I may have done this by opening a bottle with my mouth a while ago. Oops. Won’t be doing that again) and now I get to go back and sit in that loathsome chair and have a crown put on. I am not thrilled. They’re going to shave down the tooth in question and make a mold for the crown, then give me a fake one until the real one comes in (requiring me to go back yet again for another torturous process). This all sounds horribly awful, if you ask me, but apparently it’s necessary. Either that or get my tooth removed and don’t think I didn’t consider that. And guess what else – crowns aren’t cheap! I’m going for the basic one too, not the fancy gold one that I was offered in semi-jest (though I wonder what her reaction would have been if I had gotten really excited about that). Even the standard one is going to cost me nearly twice what my wedding dress did! I mean, I got that on clearance but still. I’d rather buy a dress than a crown for my tooth. Or any other article of clothing. Or just about anything other than a crown, like a suitcase full of spiders.

Have I mentioned that I hate the dentist?

But I’m going to suck it up and tough it out and bitch and complain the whole time. And never open a bottle with my teeth again. However, I can’t make any promises about biting the fingers that will soon invade my mouth to shave off my damn tooth.

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