Crown Me

The next time I hear any variation of the word "crown", I hope it has to do with a) checkers, b) i'm being coronated, c) Leyland is playing pretend, d) I'm singin' songs about Jesus. I hope I never again hear that word associated in any way, shape, or form, with my mouth, or with my dentist. It was determined a few weeks ago that the source of my jaw pain was a crack in tooth #19, or a right lower molar. This particular tooth had tons of silver in it, from having been patched and filled many years back. I've had crowns before, and even a root canal, so I pretty much knew what was in store for me today. Though I don't relish the thought of long, sharp, pointy things penetrating my gums and pumping me up with anesthetics, neither do I freak out at the thought, and willinglingly endure the brief discomfort to ensure that the procedure itself is painless. Nitrous oxide usually helps too, and I rather enjoy the euphoric, floating feeling that goes along with it.

So, dude... what happened today??? First of all, the nitrous tank was empty. Bummer. I patiently endured the bee-sting sensation of the (three) injections. Dr. Al was ready to roll, but at the first flow of air from one of the instruments, I nearly came out of the chair. Uh oh. Two more injections needed. My gums were numb, so fortunately that didn't hurt. Waited a bit and tried again. Still no go. THREE more injections, and the warning that he couldn't give me any more. We waited another 15 minutes. So there I was, an hour and eight injections later, dreading the next attempt. Yep, I still had feeling on the inside part of my tooth. It wasn't unbearable, though, and I just sucked it up and let him have at it. Oh, my friends... it was not fun. By this time the entire right side of my face felt like a blimp, the corner of my mouth was drooping, and drooling freely. Yet my tongue was not numb, nor the inside portion of my jaw. How crazy is that! After bending the metal on the arm rests and squeezing my eyes tightly shut, and curling my toes so tightly my shoes nearly flew off, he told me "we" were almost done, but he thought "we" needed one more injection for the last portion of the procedure. Okay, Dr. Al, whatever you say. Just shoot me. Anywhere. Just hurry up and make it stop. After "we" were finished, he explained that the lower molars can sometimes be difficult to anesthetize, as there are several nerves supplying the area. Apparently mine are deeply buried under my collarbone. No wonder it hurt so badly, the tooth was cracked in four places. I sure hope this crown thing fixes it and "we" don't end up needing a root canal. I don't think "we" can stand another adventure like this.