Going to the dentist fills me with such abnormal amounts of dread, fear, and rage that I generally find it “easier” to wait until an Emergency! pops up to make the commitment. This means that those cleaning visits don’t happen ever, let alone every six months. While I was pregnant I had a toothache so massive I almost died. I made three appointments with the endodontist to get my root canal and I cancelled all three times. Surely I’m not his favorite patient. Right after Baby Moo was born I gathered my courage again to make another date with the devil dentist, but the pediatrician asked me to hold off until breast feeding was better established. Phew. Any excuse, really.

The toothache fades in and out for several months, but it is generally not a problem. I rarely do anything until the pain of staying the same is greater than the pain of change. And by pain I do not mean, “Ouch! That hurts! I better go to the dentist as I can’t chew on that tooth without a sharp, shooting pain. Let me get that looked at.” By pain I mean, “Holy Hell. I stopped eating on that throbbing side six months ago. I can’t see out of my left eye because my left upper tooth is killing me. I’m having excruciating volts of electricity shoot through my tooth into the bone every time I breathe through my mouth. Ow. Ow. Ow. I wish someone would stick bamboo skewers under my finger nails because I think that might take my mind off of my tooth.” I passed that stage a few weeks ago and decided that maybe is was time to make, and keep, my appointment.

It wasn’t all that bad, really. When I got over the part where I sweat through my clothes onto the chair, I discovered that the dentist doesn’t notice your really crappy “other” teeth when you’ve got a real stinker in your mouth! Yay for small victories. Now it comes time for a crown, which is such a fancy and regal sounding name for More Novocaine. I feel like it should, at the very least, be gold, although it very nearly is as expensive as the real thing.

Dr. I’m Putting a Crown On talk me into The Works. I’ll have about a million and one x-rays, find all the decay, consult with an oral surgeon, get implants, get veneers, whiten teeth, and we’re done. She made me feel like my mouth was deformed and scary. One could never tell I have anything wrong with my teeth from looking at me smile. All my front teeth are straight and nice. . . Looking, at least. Although not to her, she told me my teeth were “too small for my mouth.” Seriously?

I ask you, is that all that awful? I realize my teeth are in terrible condition. Not going to the dentist for nine years will definitely impact your teeth in a negative way. However, I am pretty meticulous when it comes to flossing and brushing. If I wasn’t can you imagine the trouble I would have been in then? It took all the strength I had just to get to that appointment. I wish I had turned down The Works and opted for just the crown. Then I wouldn’t feel such an obligation to myself to get it all done, as it needs to be done anyway. But knowing me in the way that I do, I won’t to a blessed thing until I’m in agony. Let’s just hope she’s not completely booked when that happens. I have a feeling it’s going to be ugly.