Baby

I admit it.  I’m a baby when it comes to pain.  I’m even worse when it comes to blood, which is why I didn’t follow my mother into nursing.

There is some pain I can tolerate.  But I managed to inherit the Rock Teeth from my paternal grandmother that means I have had relatively little dental work done in my lifetime.  I still have some of the fillings that were installed when I was 13 years old.  I have two brothers who have never even had a cavity.

And so here I am, with a cracked molar, facing at the very least a crown and possibly root canal.

I. Am. Not. Happy.

Of course, I have friends who would find this all too funny, having Teeth Of Chalk.  One high school buddy had root canal work done when we were in high school.  Even DH isn’t too sympathetic, as he has a fair amount of problems in the dental area.  He faithfully brushes for an eternity, flosses, rinses with mouthwash…..and meanwhile, I’m at the adjacent sink, doing my usual quick brush-and-out.

So, I’m whining.  I just visited my dentist for another application of some stuff that will keep the worst of the pain at bay until I’m able to go in for my temporary crown.  (Friday morning, for those keeping score.)  In the meantime, I’m popping Excedrin every four hours.  Thank God for the power of aspirin.  There’s something about tooth pain that seems almost unbearable.  (I swear, the pain I felt after abdominal surgery was no big deal by comparison.  Why is that?)

Anyway, thanks for listening.  I’ll stop whining now.  Or, soon.

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