Listen To Your Dentist

I've had this cracked tooth for about four years or so now, and I've learned how to chew on it without putting that much pressure on it. So it hasn't bothered me at all unless I suddenly got something hard right there without knowing it and bit down and it would hurt so bad I would want to cry. But this happened so rarely, and the cost of getting it fixed was more than our humble little checking account could handle, so, I put it off. And off. And off. Every six months at my check-ups, my dentist would say, "You know, we really ought to fix that cracked tooth." And I'd say, "I know, I know, soon." And he'd submit it my insurance to have it approved and find out how much they would cover and how much I'd have to pay. Then I'd get a statement in the mail from my insurance that said, "You're too poor to get this tooth fixed" or something to that effect. So another six months would go by, the submission and permission from my insurance would expire, and we'd start back over.
Who knew you should do what your dentist says?
Last night I was enjoying my low-cal Smart Pop Kettle Corn, and just as I was thinking, "Look at you, eating all healthy" CRACK! A sneaky little un-popped kernel slipped right between the cracked tooth and the tooth above it and poor unsuspecting me crunched right down. I literally heard the crack, and my tooth was throbbing.
After I stopped screaming like a little girl, I quickly felt it with my tongue. Nothing different. Odd, I thought, I must have just worsened the crack. So, the pig that I am, the second the throbbing began to lessen somewhat, I dug out another handful of popcorn (I had to eat it before it got cold and stale!) and chewed very carefully on my right side so as not to worsen the pain or add stress to my cracked tooth. Then something sneaky and hard got me on the right side, only this time it was so hard I knew it couldn't be a kernel. Sure enough, I spat out a chunk of tooth. Again, I felt that tooth with my tongue and this time, there was a gaping hole. I have no idea why it took a minute for the piece to actually fall off, but it did, and the only good part about it was the throbbing stopped.
I have always been totally freaked out and disgusted by broken teeth or stubby teeth in my mouth, so I was not a happy camper. And if I touched it with my tongue at all, it hit a nerve and sent a shock wave through my mouth. I was terrified to eat or drink anything, not knowing what would zap that nerve.
I managed to get a drink that night, eat breakfast and brush my teeth (but not that one) with minimal pain and discomfort, and the dentist got me in at eleven to look at it and take X-Rays. Luckily, they still just needed to do the crown they were originally planning on when the tooth was just cracked. I was so relieved, I had been so worried this break would mean a more extensive and expensive procedure. But all they had time to do today was cover it with this temporary protective stuff to protect the nerve and spare me some pain, so I have to go back on Monday to get the crown. So until then I'm stuck with this stubby piece of a tooth that still hurts and I can't bare to touch with my tongue. Yuck.
The most humbling part of the whole thing was, this morning, as I was thinking about writing about this on my blog, this perfect title popped into my head: "Listen To Your Dentist." I thought it was cute. Then-get this-I get to my dentist's office and sit in the waiting room and directly across the room from me, hanging on the wall, staring down at me was poster that said, in bold letters: Listen To Your Dentist, with a picture of a dentist pointing threateningly at me. I couldn't believe it! Boy did I learn my lesson. From now on, I will listen to my dentist, even if it means selling our house to get a cracked tooth fixed.