Avid readers (are there any left?) of my blog might recall the fateful day when I bit too hastily and greedily into a hard piece of garlic bread. What happened was that I broke my first lower molar on the left side of my mouth. That was almost four years ago and since then I’ve had it patched and repatched a few times. There was even once when it got infected and my dentist had to take the nerve out. Yes, yes, I hear you say—”Why didn’t you have it extracted way back then?” The answer is that I’m a complete wuss, especially after hearing people say how painful and difficult it is to pull out one of those big babies…
Fast forward to the present and I had an inkling that the molar was acting up again since it was giving me a numbing sort of pain the past few days. I had resorted to some ibuprofen when the pain made me wake up in the middle of the night. OK—enough is enough. I went to the dentist yesterday and here comes the scary and humorous part. He poked around the tooth, told me that it had broken yet again and it was loose. Before I could respond he yanked it out!! I almost hit the ceiling!! He quickly sprayed some anesthetic on the area which numbed the pain, and then he showed me the remnants of my molar…ugh, what a bloody mess.
Of course there is a gaping hole where my humble molar once resided but you know what? I don’t mind…and now—suddenly, I feel liberated about not having to constantly remind myself to bite or chew too hard on the left side. I’m not gonna do a crown or stuff like that (let’s not get into that here) but in a strange kind of way, the left side of my mouth feels relieved. Better out than in, I say!
