Overdressed

Remember that tooth? Two dentists, one endodontist, an oral surgeon and five x-rays later, I had it pulled today.

The first dentist told me, "I can't do anything with that; go see an endodontist."

The endodonist told me, "I can't do anything with that; go see an oral surgeon." [He was quick to point out that he could have saved the tooth had he originally done the root canal, but now....]

Big Daddy told me, "There's only one dentist in this city I trust; go get a second opinion from Dr. Jack." Dr. Jack is about 85 years old and there's not a piece of equipment in his office that was bought after 1952, but he's been Big Daddy's dentist his whole life. The good news about senior citizen doctors, there's nothing they haven't seen.

Dr. Jack told me, "We could probably save the tooth, but it would cost you a whole lot of misery." I said, "I'm not that into misery."

So he sent me to Dr. G., the oral surgeon. Also about 85 years old. OK, maybe 65.

In a consult on Monday, Dr. G. told me the extraction would be no big deal. He predicted I wouldn't need to be sedated or stitched up. He said nitrous oxide and 15 minutes would do it. "You'll be fine by the next morning." I said, "Don't tell my husband that; I'm planning to spend the weekend recuperating in bed."

I made a special playlist on my iPod to listen to in the chair - 1.1 hours of classical music. I only ever got through the second song before Dr. G. had the tooth out. He was amazing.

Then they gave me two bottles of pills - one an antibiotic and the other some lovely pain killers. Now that the novacaine has worn off, I'm grateful to have them.

I slept on and off all afternoon, drank some Ensure for dinner and checked my work email (there were 33.) Now, where did I put those pills?

Posted by Kalisa on Friday, August 18, 2006 at 6:11 PM | Permalink