Tooth Talk

"This time I'll take a painkiller as soon as I leave the dental office," I say.

Do I do it? Of course not. I feel fine, just frozen, that's all. I do a bit of Christmas shopping, pay a bill for Emil at the drug store, pick up the mail and stop in at the office first, and then head for home.

I bring in my packages and jack up the heat and then remember my promise to myself. Hm. What to take? There's Anacin, Advil, Tylenol and Aspirin. I take one Aspirin. That should do it; there's no pain.

An hour later there's more ache so I take another Aspirin. It doesn't help. Or maybe it's helping; who knows what shape I'd be in without it? I keep reminding myself that this is not suffering. Suffering would have been living in the days before modern dentistry. In comparison, anything that is done now is a breeze. A simple filling for sure is nothing to whine about.

Men visibly missing a tooth have always meant heartache for me.  I learned to steer clear of them as dates! Emil had to have a tooth pulled on Monday because it was cracked all the way through. It's one of his incisors, or next to one, so I hoped it could be replaced but am told he might not be able to manage sitting through all that would require. I'm not looking forward to seeing that gap in his lovely face. And I'll have to rewire my attitude toward menfolk missing a tooth.

This just in: my nephew and his little family.