I arrived promptly for yesterday’s appointment with the endodontist. Since my last experience ended so happily, I practically pranced into the room in anticipation of another smooth (and final) visit. I reclined into the same orange chair, bopped my head in time to the same oldies station, and smirked confidently that this second half of my procedure wouldn’t hurt a bit.
I’d forgotten a couple of things, of course. First, I’d popped a few Advil earlier in the day on my previous appointment. Yesterday, though, Mom had a rough morning, and so I totally forgot this simple added precaution. Then I’d also neglected to factor in the fact that the tooth had already survived trauma at the beginning of last week. My 800 mg of Tylenol usage had tapered back to one pill every evening to make certain no throbbing interfered with my sleep. However, the moment the dentist poked me with a probe, I realized pain would factor into this rendezvous with drill and fill.
The procedure didn’t take very long, but the discomfort level meant I didn’t find myself mentally singing with the radio. I did snicker once or twice at a comment made by the dentist as he gave his opinion of his best friend’s new girlfriend, but otherwise I focused on breathing deeply and schooling myself against the occasional twinges that struck my tooth with wickedness. When I checked out at the receptionist’s desk, the dentist’s assistant went over the same Post-Operative Procedures as before, mentioning that I would need to make an appointment with my regular dentist to have the permanent fill done. Somehow, I figured the endodontist would have done that! Silly me.
I knew on the drive back home that I’d need Paul’s help for the remainder of the day. His Grammy Sitting coupled with Mommy Care as he took care of my needs along with my mother’s. I quickly called my dentist’s office to schedule the final appointment. The receptionist at their scheduling center typed in my name and birthdate, and said, “Are you prepared to pay $800.00 today for your crown?” Once my tizzy fit settled down, (I kept saying, “What? No! I don’t need a crown! The endodontist saved my crown! I need a permanent filling!”) she decided to schedule me for another consultation with the dentist. I kept repeating that I absolutely didn’t need a crown, and I didn’t need a consultation. I needed to schedule for a permanent filling! Finally, I badgered the poor girl into scheduling a consultation with possible filling. Once I got off the phone, I decided I needed some pain killers, changed into pjs, and tried to sleep.
Shortly before dinner time, I woke up from my restless snooze and decided to blow off cooking dinner. We decided on the Taco Bell and Kentucky Fried Chicken option. Paul wanted to try their new Dorito Taco, and I knew both Mom and I could handle green beans and mashed potatoes soaked in brown gravy—comfort food. I don’t know what it is about potatoes (in any form), but they always alleviate my stress levels. Now that I’ve had my carb fix, I’ll take another round of pain medications and lounge on the couch for an episode of Modern Family.
Copyright 2012 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman