On Sunday, one of the many crowns that cover several of my ground-down, sometimes root-canalled teeth came off as I was eating dinner. It wasn’t a peanut brittle type of dental misfortune. No, it was regular old food that did it. I guess it was just time.
Fortunately, I managed to save the strange looking thing (we never really get to check them out when they’re being put in), rather than swallowing it, in which case it would have been gone forever. I would rather endure the process and shoulder the expense of getting a new crown rather than searching through … oh, you know what I mean.
Anyway, through the good graces of Dr. Dentist, I was able to drop by late in the day to have my crown re-cemented. He did an expert job, but dammit, it just doesn’t feel the same as it did before it fell out. I’ll get used to it. Hell, I figure if it weren’t for the wonders of modern dentistry, I’d probably look like Barney Frank right about now.
Speaking of Barney Frank, is there a more detestable asshole on the planet?
That is all.
Update (even before this is posted): I finally got around to eating with my replaced crown, and there was lots of scrunching and sweaking as I chewed (the infernal high spot). Looks like I’ll be visiting Mr. Dentist again. Yo, it beats gumming your chow.