Let this be a lesson for you…


…don’t take dental care advice from boy reporter Billy Batson.

My last visit to the dentist involved a cavity on one of my lower incisors, right by the gum line. The drilling and cleaning part of the procedure were relatively painless, but the bleeding was so bad that it became impossible to fit a proper filling into the tooth. The dentist had to settle for a temporary patch job intended to hold me until a future appointment.

I’ve had pretty bad luck in the past with these types of fillings, having swallowed both of the pre-crown placeholders on my root canals within a week of the procedures. I decided to play it very cautiously this time around. I cut back my Swedish fish consumption from ten pounds a week to a modest five. I adjusted my masticatory algorithms so as to avoid putting pressure on the afflicted (and very sensitive) tooth. I also got in the habit of conscientiously brushing, flossing, and using flouride rinses in the morning and before bed.

It was during one of these sessions that my toothbrush dislodged the temporary filling. (Life is a litany of little ironies.) Maura suggested that I set up an emergency appointment to get the problem resolved, but I decided to tough it out until my next visit. The tooth was a little tender, and very temperature sensitive, but nothing I felt I couldn’t deal with for two weeks.

What I didn’t realize is that the pain associated with a uncovered bore hole in my incisor would be a very crafty beast. I’d go through the day without nary a twang, only to be blindsided with agony at the most inconveninent times. Sleepless night followed sleepless night, and I began to rethink the wisdom of my plan.

What held me back from making the call, however, was the fact that my next appointment was to have a very deep cavity in one of my molars filled. I wasn’t keen on squeezing two procedures into such a short space of time, and was hoping to use the current problem to postpone dealing with the pending one.

My clever gambit paid off with this morning’s appointment, though I am currently suffering the uncomfortable after-effects of fourteen days of inflamed nerve-endings…and knowing my luck, the backburnered molar will likely turn into an abcessed supernova sometime prior to my next appointment.

It takes a lot of effort to be this complacent, let me tell you.

Recommended Listening:  The Damned – Feel the Pain (from Damned Damned Damned, 1977)

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The teething pains of gothic rock? Or an independently invented form of post-punk by way of 1960′s garage rock? It could go either (or both) ways, I suppose, though it amuses me to no end imagining Nick Lowe manning the mixing board as the components of this punkadelic dirge were laid down.

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