I knew my tooth hurt, but I didn’t realize how bad it was until my dentist called the oral surgeon and he agreed to get me in today. I normally want to sneak out of the dentist chair and escape into the freedom of the parking lot, but today I sat in his office like a sad puppy with its tail between its legs. I just sat in the chair and practically opened my mouth before the dentist even asked me to. I could have cried on demand too… but don’t worry, I held back my emotions.
It still gets to me every time someone asks me to rate my pain. I feel like I can’t say “ten” because that should be reserved for child birth or something. I can’t say “nine” or he’ll think I’m a complete wimp. If I say “three” he’ll send me home with a pat on the back and a new toothbrush.
What am I supposed to say? How am I supposed to rate my pain? Today I broke all of the “number” rules and simple said “excruciating” with big bulging eyes. That is when he called the surgeon. I think he got it.
All of that to say I have to get my tooth removed. I am usually against pulling teeth out of adult’s mouths because they never come back, but today I don’t care. With the mood I’m in I’d probably sign up for dentures if they said I would never have a tooth ache again.
But teeth intact, I am glad I live in the time period I do. What if I had this tooth in Little House on the Prairie Days? Sadly, I don’t think I would make it.
On that note; thanks for reading. I’ll keep you posted on my tooth drama. On second thought, I’ll spare you the details.