Thursday, April 02, 2009


I went to the dentist today because a bridge seemed to be a little loose. I thought a little small talk and a dab of glue and I'd be on my way. I was wrong.
I hate it when a dentist walks around my x-rays looking at them from different angles as if he were examining the front end of a car after a fender-bender. It's also not good when they say we have several options depending upon the quality of your insurance.
What about the glue I asked hopefully. "That stuff will give you brain damage," he said helpfully "I'd suggest you stop sniffing it immediately." No, I mean the glue to secure my bridge.
"I"m afraid that won't be an option," he said sympathetically.
It seems the wisdom tooth onto which my five-tooth bridge was anchored had a problem. He could see the problem on the x-ray and some subsequent digging with a sharp tooth probe confirmed the damage. When he got the bridge off, the wisdom tooth was all but gone. A few moments later he had snatched it out and given me a card for a specialist who does implants.
"Am I going to have to knock off a liquor store to pay for implants?" I asked. "That's not a bad idea," he said "I'd wait and do it on the first of the month when the check come in."
So I walked out with a mouth full of gauze and a script for pain medicine.
I drove home slowly and scoped out a few package stores.

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