I really wish that title meant that I got a real, sparkly crown, with jewels and diamonds in it, but I’m not Kate Middleton. So this is about a crown on my tooth instead. That also means no photos, because who wants to see my tooth? Weirdos.
On February 2nd, I went into the dentist for my regular 6 months appointment, where in addition to torturing me through a cleaning for an hour, they also told me I needed a root canal and that is why my right back tooth is so sensitive. OH REALLY?! I just thought I was in agony for the fun of it!
Anyway, fast forward to February 13th for said root canal. I was referred to an Endodontist (someone who does root canals all day and thinks they are awesome). Apparently the nerves in my tooth are a little pesky so one appointment wasn’t enough to get everything finished. So they put on a temporary cover and said, hey, don’t chew on that side or basically your entire tooth will fall out. Don’t even chew air. So I ate soup for two weeks.
The Root Canal follow-up was on February 28th. This Endodontist is so busy, you can’t get in for two weeks, even if your tooth is at risk of dying and falling out. Awesome. So the very nice doctor (and I actually mean it, although the remainder of this post will be mostly snarky and sarcastic commentary) finished up my root canal, no problem.
Next up, back to my dentist for the crown (“final step”) on March 8th. Now, I’m thinking the hard part is over, right? I mean after my root canal they offered a prescription of Vicodin, which I didn’t even need, so how bad could a crown be? After all, a root canal just sounds scary, but a crown, that sounds like fairy tales and unicorns, doesn’t it?
WELL, IT’S NOT.
It took 2 hours. And it was nothing like I had expected. Step 1, drill into patients tooth with such loud drill bits that patient can’t even hear themselves breathing. Step 2, do this for another 30 minutes until patient is on verge of both mental breakdown and having jaw run away crying from being stretched open that long. Step 3, say you’re almost finished, but do more drilling and then take an impression of the measly stub of a tooth for the crown, with that gag-reflux inducing liquid in a tray. Step 4, tell patient they’ll be a little sore and to come back in two weeks for the permanent crown. Oh and also, tell patient they’re still only wearing a temporary crown, so no eating.
Apparently when a dentist says you will be a little sore it means you will cry in pain on the couch while your husband tries to get you to eat something other than Pinkberry. I’m afraid of what it means if they ever say to expect to be in pain.
Anyway, March 28th arrives which is finally, FINALLY, the last step in the journey to get my permanent crown installed (that’s what this feels like at this point, a construction site) and to be able to eat candy again. I may have been a little dramatic about not being able to eat anything for 9 weeks, but not being able to eat candy feels that dramatic. Especially since I’m Jewish, so I’m not used to giving up something for more than 24 hours or at most, 8 days. You Lent observing people, I bow to you. So, I stroll in ready for the new crown. AND … wait for it…. IT DOESN’T FIT. Cue side-eye to dentist and trek out back to the front desk to schedule an appoint for the following week.
And here we are, on April 4th. You wouldn’t believe any of the past 9 weeks if you just heard the story from today’s appointment. Go in, remove temporary crown, cement permanent one in, head home.
All I know is that when I have to go back to the dentist for my next cleaning in late summer, it will definitely be too soon.
Note: Just in case you people think I just eat candy all day and brush my teeth with the
frosting pure sugar granules from a Magnolia’s cupcake, it’s not true. Well the brushing part isn’t. I brush twice a day with regular toothpaste (not the candy variety) and floss daily, too. So, even if you are nice to your pearly whites, this can happen to YOU. DUN DUN DUNNNNNN.